Only Human
by Nurse Betty Page
Summary: Hunted by an alien for his regenerative ability, the Doctor uses the Chameleon Arch to turn human, starting a new life as Malcolm Tucker.His disguise lasts seven years, by now Clara has fallen in love with Malcolm. But Doctor was right - the conversion process was flawed - suddenly Clara is losing the man she loves, and must persuade Malcolm to open the watch, or lose them both...
1. Chapter 1

**Only Human**

 **A Doctor Who /Thick of It Crossover fic – AU in all ways (pretend Face the Raven never happened – 12 x Clara forever!)**

 **Rated R: For language, scenes and themes of an adult nature, heavy emotional rollercoaster.**

 **Warnings: See rating above.**

 **Pairings: 12/Clara Malcolm/Clara some Malcolm/Sam**

 **Summary:**

 **When the Tardis is attacked by an energy stealing creature seeking the Doctor's regenerations, he tells Clara the enemy will not stop pursuing him because it has locked on to his rare Timelord DNA signature – making him hunted through out time and space. He then tells her the only way he can avoid capture is to land on Earth and use the Chameleon Arch to become human – and then wait for the creature to give up and move on – which could take a few years...**

 **The Tardis arrives in the year 2005, and Clara is given instruction by the Doctor to guard the watch that will hold his Timelord consciousness, and to protect him – because while he is in genetic disguise, he is as vulnerable as any other human on the planet...**

 **Clara is in for a shock when the Doctor uses the Chameleon Arch and goes through the agonising alteration process – and when he finally recovers, she finds the quick tempered, foul mouthed human he has become who goes by the name of Malcolm Tucker is nothing like the Timelord she has secretly loved for so long.**

 **But as they settle into life on earth together, Clara soon finds that Malcolm is a very passionate man, so welcomes the chance to finally get close to the Doctor, who is not a hugger nor a kisser – then as Malcolm carves out a stressful but successful career in Downing Street, the years fly by too soon. The signal on board the Tardis has long since vanished, but Clara has been too happy to dare to break the spell, as on the occasions she has tried to mention opening the watch, Malcolm Tucker dismisses her _fucking time travel_ fantasies.**

 **But disaster strikes shortly after Malcolm quits his job under a cloud of trouble in 2012 – and then discovers he is dangerously ill. With his human life in grave danger, Clara must persuade him to open the watch... But when he does, can life ever be the same again for the Doctor and Clara, as Clara has fallen in love with Malcolm Tucker – and this was _not_ a detail laid out in the Doctor's list of possible happenings, in the recording he left for her that covered everything... _except the possibility of her falling in love with his human alter ego..._**

* * *

Only Human

" _There must be an angel with a smile on her face  
When she thought up that I should be with you  
But it's time to face the truth  
I will never be with you..." _

Introduction: Seven Years Later

Clara walked across the polished floor alone and pulled back drapes as sunlight flooded into the room, diffused by the soft nets that hung at the windows. She paused to stand by that window and push aside the nets, to look out into a sunlit garden with high brick walls. The roses were still in bloom and the scent of them carried through into the house as she opened up the window, the morning light greeted her like a kiss from heaven as the sun rays hit her face, and she looked to the skies and wished to have back all that had been snatched away.

 _But how could she mourn a loss that wasn't a loss?_

Her heart felt sliced in two as she blinked away tears that glazed her dark eyes. Then she heard the familiar foot falls of his boots – his heavy, polished boots that matched his black suit with its crimson lining, and as he spoke up, she remained where she stood, her hand clutched at the net as she held it back and looked out, down a rose lined lawn that carried so many memories.

" _Clara..."_

Yes, it was definitely him. It was the Doctor, he was back...

He noticed she did not turn around and as he held a flood of memories of his other life inside his head, he took a slow, deep breath and spoke again.

"It's done..." he walked over to the window, standing behind her, but not too close, because she would not look at him, and that worried him deeply.

"I used the Chameleon Arch and reversed the process, Tardis scan confirmed I'm one hundred percent Timelord once more – and perfectly healthy now. I was right, that being in my first new cycle of regenerations and loaded with so much regenerative power might have caused some kind of genetic anomaly when I converted to human - I recall he had pain for quite a while after the process and that's not supposed to happen... It would explain why the human version of me became so very ill after just seven years -"

Her sharp gasp as she stifled a sob and the way she briefly held up her hand silenced him as he stood there, feeling powerless as he struggled to handle this.

"I don't want to know why," she said as her voice trembled, "I just want him to come back to me!"

"That's impossible," the Doctor replied, "You were right, I had to reverse the process before it was too late...Clara, _please_ look at me."

She kept her back to him as tears ran down her face.

"Clara..." he said again.

Her thoughts were with Malcolm as she still did not turn around.

"We loved more in seven years than most people know in a lifetime together!" she said as grief choked her voice.

"I know, I have his memories! Clara, please – just look at me..."

"Bring him back!" she said sharply.

As he fell silent she stayed with her back to the Doctor. The Tardis was at the bottom of the garden, where it had been for the past seven years. But her heart was too shattered to allow her to turn around and look into the eyes of the Doctor – because her heart was aching for Malcolm Tucker, the man she would love forever...

* * *

Chapter 1 : Seven years before

Clara had looked into the eyes of the Timelord who was worth the thrill and the danger and all that went along with travelling with the Doctor, and as their eyes met, the slightly dangerous but warm gleam in his eyes was contagious as together they threw the lever and sent the Tardis hurtling randomly through time and space.

"I don't even care where we end up, Clara!" the Doctor said as they stood side by side at the console, and then as his gaze locked with hers, his hands stayed on the console as he wished he could turn and pull her close and embrace her – but in this lifetime, it was so difficult to do. Instead he smiled.

"I never want our adventures to end!"

"Me too," she replied, and she turned and looked into his eyes.

The Doctor inwardly froze and hoped hesitation didn't show in his eyes. Yes, he loved Clara, but to say it, to act upon it...he was a Timelord and to him, in this lifetime, it could take him years to be ready...quite possibly, longer than the lifespan of the human he was in love with...

"Doctor," she said gently, "Come closer."

"Why? I'm fine where I am!"

She gave a sigh, stepping closer to him to save wrecking the moment with a debate on the subject.

"I just want to..." she paused, her gaze locked with his as she reached up, placing her had on his cheek. He caught it, held it there for a moment.

"Clara," he said fondly, and she heard so much warmth and depth in the way he spoke her name. Then he let go of her hand and stepped back, looking down at a console that didn't need attention.

"Doctor, I just wanted to say something -"

"No, Clara...We need to change course - _now_."

He was still looking down at the console. His words made her heart sink.

"Maybe we should stay on course. I don't _want_ to change the subject!"

Then she realised he was no longer looking at the controls as a distraction – a screen had lit up, there was something glowing on the monitor and Gallifreyan swirls passed over it, as the Doctor read them silently and then looked up with urgency in his eyes.

"We need to change course because there's a Zeprion Nomad vessel tracking us! They're shape shifters... energy stealers ...My regenerative ability would keep this one fed for ten billion years! They're capable of matching the Tardis for speed and tracking but time travel...not as fast as the Tardis... _we_ have time... _I think_...to out run it!"

He turned dials, hit switches and slammed down a lever. The Tardis lurched violently, spinning as it switched course, and then the engines wheezed and groaned, and the blue box faded out of the time stream, re emerging in another time and place, at a speed the Nomad vessel could not match.

As the Tardis landed, the Doctor dashed around the console activating controls.

"What are you doing, Doctor?" Clara asked, "We've landed -"

"Yes, Clara and there's much to be done..." he worked on a keypad, his long, elegant fingers stabbing at buttons as he kept his gaze down on the task as he reeled off an explanation:

"We have landed on Earth in 2005. We may be here for a long time...the Nomad vessel will linger far out in space, locked on to my DNA if it can find it, to move in for the kill...damned things are just one of many types of energy vampires out there... It will give up eventually - after a few years -"

" _Years?"_ Clara looked at him in alarm.

He glanced up from the console.

"Yes Clara, years..." then he looked down again and continued to work.

"Why is this _so_ difficult?" he said impatiently, thumping the console and then stabbing harder at the keypad, "I'm the first in a new regeneration cycle...it's not as simple as it used to be!"

"What are you doing?"

He was still frantically working as he replied.

"The Nomad is looking for a Timelord...I need to use a device called the Chameleon Arch to alter my DNA to human...my TimeLord consciousness will be kept inside a pocket watch...You will need to guard it with your life - and me, too because I'll be human, I won't know a thing about my life as the Doctor... As for my human self, his name is Malcolm Tucker and he's just been appointed Director of Communications for the British Government...I've been keeping the preparations for this planned for a long time, in case I ever needed to use it...he has a home set up and all the paperwork needed for the job and the Tardis did the rest. Now I just have to become him, and you need to keep an eye on me!"

He looked up from the controls and met her gaze, his own burning like blue fire and old as time itself as she looked back at him, wide eyed as she took in all he had said.

"You'll find a recorded message from me. Refer to it when ever you need to. I know you've got my back, I know this will be okay...But I'm not looking forward to it. The process is painful. _Don't_ touch me during conversion."

Then he activated a control, and Clara looked on, watching as a metallic device lowered from the ceiling and a reclining black leather chair slid out on the floor beneath it. The chair had restraints and looked more like something out of a torture chamber than something that belonged in the Tardis...

"Are you sure about this?" she said cautiously.

The Doctor went over to the chair, sat down and it reclined, the restraints locking down his wrists and ankles as the metallic device clamped about his head. He looked to Clara, and in that moment she saw fear shining in his eyes.

" _Look after the watch...and me!"_

Then power surged down the cable and into the device and the Doctor's body stiffened as he gave a cry of terrible pain.

* * *

Clara had lost track of how long the Doctor had screamed in agony. The Tardis console room was vast and hearing him scream like that, seeing him in such agony, was almost too much to bear. But Clara stayed by the console, looking on, powerless to intervene. Then finally the power stopped flowing, the restraints sprang back and as the device released from his head and went back up to the ceiling, the Doctor's body fell still. He seemed deeply unconscious, save for the rise and fall of his chest that assured her he was very much alive.

Then she heard a _click_ and looked around to see a pocket watch with Gallifreyan swirls engraved upon it had risen up from the console.

" _Clara..."_

A monitor had just jumped to life, and as she saw the Doctor on the screen, she felt a wave of relief and sadness at the same time as it occurred to her that this message would be her only link to him until this was over...

"I made this recording in the event of having to use the Chameleon Arch," he began, "Now this has obviously happened, or you wouldn't be watching me on this screen...Soon I – _he_ \- should be waking up...within around five to ten minutes assuming all went well. If it didn't, it's because I'm in a new set of regenerations and the program had to adapt...This could mean my human form could be prone to cell mutation or degeneration on some human level...But I'm hoping it worked out just fine. When I wake, I'm not the Doctor any more, I'm human and my name is Malcolm Tucker, he's me but he's _not_ me – he knows nothing of the past or of being a Timelord. The Tardis has landed in the garden of a house – his house, the one you share with him."

"And who does he think I am?" she wondered.

As if he could hear her, the Doctor gave a reply.

"You're his... _Clara..._ sorry I don't know. I had no time to perfect that bit, the new regeneration cycle DNA signature was complicated to work out and I had little time. But I'm safe now. The Nomad Vessel can be seen on the Tardis radar, it will linger out in space at a distance for several years. The Tardis will let you in to track it. When it's gone, make Malcolm open the watch, then I get my consciousness back again..."

Then he paused, leaning closer to the screen as his gaze locked with hers. "Now, I have a long list of possible scenarios that may arise and what to do about it - but the main priority is to look after him. He's human, he has _one_ life. If he's in danger, he has to open that watch so I can get myself back again. Guard the watch, too... Now, he should be waking up soon. Don't worry if he seems a little dazed, take him in the house. He'll have absolutely no memory of life as me. You can listen to the rest of this recording later on. Go and help me, Clara – right now I'm a confused human."

She pressed a button and stopped the message, then grabbed the watch, slipped it into the pocket of her skirt and went over to the chair, that had now rose to a sitting position.

"Doc -" she paused, remembering he was no longer the Doctor, "Malcolm?" she said cautiously.

He was still slumped in the chair, his hair was damp with sweat and his face was pale. A trickle of blood started to run from his nose and she looked back at the console and the darkened screen, feeling a flicker of alarm:

The Doctor had said, he should be just fine, and clearly he was not...

"What do I do?" she wondered aloud.

Then she noticed his hair seemed different – shorter, less grey than before...even the lines on his face seemed a little faded out. It all served to reminded her this man was not the Doctor – at least, not now the Chameleon Arch had altered his DNA...

"Malcolm?" she said again, and as he rested against the chair he turned his head, gave a quiet groan and his eyes remained closed as more blood ran from his nose.

"I don't think that should be happening," she muttered, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping away the blood. The pallor was leaving his face now, and as his eyes flickered open and he saw her through a misty haze, his head ached.

Clara smiled as she looked lovingly at him.

"It's okay," she said softly, "It's me, Clara...your... _Clara_...Let me help you up."

Malcolm blinked, the room a blur thanks to his aching head as he focussed on her face.

"What the fucking _fuck_ happened?" he said weakly as he sat up, his hand to his head.

Clara blinked.

"Excuse me?"

He glared at her as pain throbbed was a glare that reminded her of the Doctor...but only at first glance...This man was nothing like him at all with his harsh tone and four letter words words and aggressive gleam in his eyes.

"You're fucking excused," he said, "Now help me up before I bleed to death, vomit on you or both, I feel like shit!"

He was feeling stronger now, and managed to stand unaided, pushing away her offer of help as he spotted through blurred vision an open doorway.

"I need to get my head down and sleep this off...You want to help me? If this is helping I'm so glad I don't pay you for it, at least I get plenty of sex..."

He staggered for the open door, swayed and she caught up with him, putting her arm around him to steady him, and this time, as his head swam, he didn't object.

* * *

" _Sex?"_ she said in surprise.

They had stepped out into the garden. Clara heard the door of the Tardis close behind them and did not look back as she led him towards the house.

"Well I wouldn't be dating a fucking nun, would I?" he snapped, and they reached the door and she found a key was in it, turned it and opened up the back door, helping him inside, to a bright, modern kitchen. Suddenly Malcolm felt too weak to complain about his aching head as the pain spread through the rest of his body.

"Put me to bed, Clara, I'm sure you can do that right...Why did you let me fall over? How could I fall in the garden? I'm not even drinking... or was I?"

He sounded exhausted, and his eyes briefly closed as he leant against her, then as they left the kitchen, went up the hallway, passed a comfortable living room and headed for the stairs he paused, leaning heavily on the rail as he broke out in another sweat.

"This isn't right," Clara said quietly, recalling how the recording had said, Malcolm should be fine...unless the DNA conversion had gone wrong somewhere...

He grasped the stair rail with a shaky hand, stumbling weak and exhausted as she helped him, and when they reached the top she steered him clear of the potentially fatal drop if stumbled backwards, leading him towards a wide open doorway, where the room was light and the breeze soothing as nets shifted gently.

She looked to the big, comfortable bed and realised she would be expected to sleep with him...Had the Doctor wanted this on some level? He was nothing like the Doctor. This man was so far removed from the Doctor that Clara wanted to sob because she missed him – then as Malcolm laid down heavily on the bed and closed his eyes, she stood there looking down at him – he was the Doctor, in human form – he just didn't know it...

" _Take care of the watch – and me!"_

The Doctor's last words before the Chameleon Arch had done its work rang through her head as she leant over Malcolm, who had fallen into a deep slumber.

"Of course I'll look after you, Doctor," Clara whispered.

Then she carefully began to undress him, removing the Doctor's suit as Malcolm slept on, still shattered from the ordeal of becoming human, as Clara wondered if her ordeal was just beginning, because it felt as if the Doctor was gone and in his place was a stranger. And the Doctor had said, this could take years...She was stranded back in 2005, with a total stranger...a man she wasn't even sure she could tolerate...


	2. Chapter 2

Author Note: AU universe, in this fic, at this point in time, Harriet Jones (Doctor Who Universe) is the PM.

* * *

Chapter 2

The rest of the day did not go well for Clara, as she anxiously hovered by Malcolm's bedside, watching him shiver and sweat and occasionally give a groan of pain. He was restless and although still exhausted, tensed frequently as if some kind of pain was troubling him.

" _It went wrong..."_ she murmured as her eyes clouded with concern.

When nightfall came, Malcolm was sleeping much easier, so she slipped out of the house, went to the bottom of the garden and used the Tardis key to let herself into the blue box. The door closed behind her and the place seemed too quiet and empty without the Doctor.

Then Clara activated the recording and stood there, listening to his words as his image and the sound of his voice brought her comfort. It had been less than a day and she was missing him terribly already as she listened to him reel off many possible scenarios and what action to take.

Then as he began to talk about possible complications, she looked intently at the screen:

"There is of course a risk that my human self may not have converted smoothly – as I said, I blame the fact that I'm in a new set of regenerations for that. This machine was configured to fit with my _old_ lives...it's the one thing I never did, update the Chameleon Arch command system after I prepared for this eventuality. I had no idea configuring what I believed would be a simple change could prove so difficult."

He leaned closer to the screen, looking into her eyes.

"Clara, as soon as that light goes off on the radar, make him open that watch. This is _especially_ important if the human transfer didn't go well. Other wise he could become very unwell and go through terrible pain and eventually die...killing _me_ in the process – remember, that's _my_ body, just rewritten. I can't emphasise enough how important it is to make sure that watch gets opened as soon as that radar is clear. Otherwise I could be trapped in a body that could fail at any time. If he dies, so do I! Keep an eye on him, just in case."

"And what if the worst does happen?" she said aloud.

Again, she got a feeling it was almost as if he could hear her as he gave his reply.

"If he does start to become seriously unwell, the only course of action is to open the watch. I get my consciousness back, the Chameleon Arch reverses the process and there's no harm done to me. Don't let him seek medical help for it unless absolutely necessary – if the conversion has complications they won't know what they are treating and everything they try will fail. And I don't want to be left with his memories of needless pain and suffering when this can be avoided..."

Clara listened to the rest of the message, and then she left the Tardis and returned quietly to the house.

* * *

Tiredness had washed over her by now, the sky was a clear one with stars that shone brightly up in the dark velvet blanket of night, stars that made her think of travelling through space and time – something that would not be happening again for a long while...

Malcolm was still sleeping when she sat down on the bed, kicked off her shoes and then cautiously lay beside him. In the moonlight she turned and looked at him, studying his face, his closed eyes, the way his chest rose and fell as he slept peacefully. She was relieved he had started to recover now – the Doctor had said it would have been immediate, but he had been wrong. Knowing that made her worry that maybe he was right about everything else he had said... _Had_ the conversion gone wrong?

Suddenly she felt desperately worried, and she shifted closer and slipped her arm around him.

Malcolm murmured something she didn't catch, turned on his side and embraced her, then slept on, as if to hold her was natural and expected. It felt strangely warm and familiar to be in his arms, even though she had lost count of the times she had wished for the Doctor to hold her like this, and he never had. Now it didn't seem so hard to be close to this human stranger the Doctor had become...Maybe that was because he was sleeping. It was probably the best time to get along with him, she thought with a smile as she recalled how volatile he had been on first waking. Then he formed a slight frown as he breathed out and gave a vague whimper of protest at feeling more discomfort.

"It's okay," she whispered, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer as she thought on all the Doctor had warned her about complications. Her closeness seemed to help a lot, because after that he slept through the night, and so did Clara.

* * *

As Malcolm Tucker woke up aching all over and with a vague recollection of feeling as if he had been slammed into a brick wall the night before, he shifted closer to Clara. There she was, his Clara. He turned on his side, watched her sleeping, wondered why he was bothering to think back to how they met...it didn't matter, because she was there :

 _His Clara..._

She felt his lips brush her throat, he inhaled the scent of her hair as he kissed the side of her neck. Clara smiled, her eyes closed, lost in a dream about the Doctor and finally sleeping wrapped in his arms.

" _Sorry about last night. I was a real fucker, having a go at you like that... Felt like my head was splitting open..."_

He was reaching for her.

This was not the Doctor.

She snapped her eyes open, sucking in a sharp breath as she looked startled and so did he, wondering why she looked startled in the first place, because she was his Clara...

"Don't!" she said sharply and shifted away from his embrace, as hurt registered in his eyes.

"Clara," Malcolm blinked away the last trace of his tiredness, then ran his fingers through hair messed up by sleep, "What's wrong with you?"

This was awkward.

She got out of bed, smoothed down her skirt and something fell to the floor, hitting the soft carpet. Malcolm sat up in bed, looked down in time to see her retrieve the pocket watch and he looked utterly confused.

"What's that?"

"An old watch."

"I can see that, but where did it come from?"

"It's mine," she replied, walking over to a dressing table and opening up a drawer and placing it inside. Then she turned back to the bed. Malcolm had thrown off the covers. Last night she had stripped him down to his underwear but now that was gone, and he was sitting there nude and clearly proud of his lean and toned body.

 _He also had an erection._

Clara swept her gaze back to his face as her cheeks flushed – of course he wouldn't mind being naked with her, he believed she was his partner...

 _The Doctor had wanted this?_

That thought ran silently through her head as Malcolm looked intently at her.

"Are you coming back to bed or not?"

"I thought I'd make breakfast," she replied.

He gestured to his hard on as he looked at her in surprise.

"I've woken up with enough wood to build a fucking fort and you want to go and make breakfast?"

He had spoken like this was the last thing he expected. She couldn't help but smile a little as she wondered, had the Doctor, on some subconscious level, had a fantasy about this kind of scenario? Where was all this horny behaviour coming from? Or maybe she was wrong, maybe it was just the way he was written as a human by the Chameleon Arch...

"Coffee?" was all she could think to say.

"Yeah, might as well...Why did you sleep in your clothes?"

As he reached for the TV remote, settled back against his pillows and watched the morning news, Clara gave no answer as she slipped from the room.

While she was downstairs, Clara made the coffee with a smile on her face as she thought about the sight of Malcolm naked, which had been a very pleasant sight indeed – although not one she had expected. Then her smile faded as she thought on the state of him after the Chameleon Arch had done its work...As she worried silently about the possible complications of the DNA switch and what it could mean for the future, she wasn't sure who she felt more concerned for – Malcolm, or the Doctor...

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Malcolm was sitting up in bed and the covers were up to his hips and she smiled to herself, secretly resenting the covers for hiding what had been the sight of an impressive erection. She guessed she didn't need to fight it, yes, she _did_ want to see it again...she wanted to see _all_ of him again...

For now, she had to make do with his upper body, toned and sleek and every bit as attractive as she had imagined the Doctor to be, because she had mentally undressed him many times...

As she set the coffee down, Malcolm didn't thank her as his gaze was fixed on the Tv screen, where the Prime Minister was speaking in an interview.

"From Monday," Malcolm said, "I'm director of communications, working for _her_ government...I don't like her."

Clara studied the smartly dressed, middle aged woman on the screen who was speaking about her interests in protecting the not just the Uk, but the planet, globally...

"Harriet Jones!" she exclaimed, recalling this was 2005.

Malcolm drank some coffee, set it down next to the bed and glanced at Clara.

" _Harriet Jones Prime Minister_ , waves her title about like it's her favourite dildo! The woman's a nightmare! She says way too much, its going to frighten people...I'll have to find a way to sort this mess out before it becomes a worse mess."

"Mess?" asked Clara.

"As in a steaming great pile of dog turd! She's a nutter. Don't get me wrong, I've know plenty of nutters in my time and the higher up the ladder you go, the more of them you find – but she believes in _aliens_!"

Clara smiled as the irony of his words was not lost on her.

"What's the harm in that? She's openly said she funds research programs connected with space and -"

"The possibility of reaching out to aliens that don't fucking exist! She needs to calm that shit down."

"And I'm sure you'll be able to sort that out," Clara replied.

As the PM stopped speaking, Malcolm turned off the TV, turned over and looked into her eyes.

"Come back to bed."

He had spoken softly, as their eyes met and she heard him say those words, her heart warmed through with love as a single thought ran through her mind:

 _This is the Doctor, it's just that he's human now. On some level, this really is him...and I've waited so long for this moment..._

She nodded slightly and then turned away as she took off her clothes, keeping her back turned to him as she felt his eyes wander over her flesh and the sensation was welcoming and almost familiar. Her underwear fell beside the pile where she had let her top and her skirt fall, then she turned around, her face flushing as her eyes darkened and her heart raced as he took in the sight of her nude body.

As she got into bed Malcolm reached for her, pulling her close as their lips touched. Then he froze, backing off slightly as a bewildered look came to his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked, starting to worry as she recalled the pain he had suffered after the Chameleon Arch.

Malcolm was still looking at her in confusion.

"This sounds insane, Clara...I...I feel like I'm kissing you for the _first_ time?"

She smiled as love reflected in her eyes, replying with a soft kiss that took his breath away as he closed his eyes, kissing her in return, deeper and with impatience as he ran his hands over her body.

 _His touch felt right._

 _The heat of his breath on her flesh felt like bliss._

 _As he whispered that he needed her, his words seemed to carry to her heart..._

When he kissed her breasts and cupped them and sucked gently she gave a moan of helpless pleasure. As he worked his way down her body with a path of hot and hungry kisses she arched her back, tangling her fingers in his hair as he needed no encouragement as he buried his face between her legs and the feel of his mouth on her made her cry out as she breathed heavily, every kiss, every tease and caress he gave her seemed so right, as if this had been something she had waited all her life to feel. It had never been like this with any other man, not like _this_ , not so perfect, so absolutely right...

She was still breathless from orgasm that left her weak and the last throb of pleasure had not left her body as he parted her shaking, damp thighs and entered her with a firm, single stroke, deep into warmth and wetness that welcomed him as she cried out again. Every thrust felt like paradise and he made it last, until finally he slammed into her in short, hard thrusts, gasping audibly with every movement, then giving a loud, sharp cry of release as he finally came and then slumped in her arms, breathing hard, his hair damp with sweat.

And as he held her, he felt sure he had loved her forever.

 _Clara was feeling the same. This didn't feel like some impulsive, heat of the moment encounter. It felt like she had come home._

Malcolm slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, and the feel of his body against hers was like finding the missing piece of her heart.

"Love you, Clara..." he murmured as he held her close.

As she lay with her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his very human, only heart, Clara closed her eyes, feeling as if she could drift away forever in this moment, as part of her lingered back, like she was floating out at sea wrapped in their afterglow as if it were an ocean of belonging – yet still there was this other Clara, waiting on the shore for the Doctor to return...

She pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to think too much, only knowing this felt right, as she drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man who seemed to have held her heart from the moment they had first kissed – and it wasn't the Doctor from Gallifrey. This man's name was Malcolm Tucker, and he was very human indeed...

* * *

The next two days passed in a haze of bliss for Clara, as she and Malcolm spent their time together, talking, laughing, making love, it felt as if they had been together forever.

As far as Malcolm was concerned, they had been together for a long time.

Clara knew different, and had stopped thinking too deeply about it – the Doctor had become human, he had changed a lot, the swearing was something she struggled to get used to after knowing her gently spoken Timelord, but the human he had become was a passionate man – and not afraid to show his feelings. That was how she saw it now – the Doctor had become human, become another person, and she had fallen in love with that person.

She didn't want to think about the day that hostile ship on the Tardis radar vanished. She never wanted to think about the day coming when she would have to persuade Malcolm to open the watch.

But the Doctor had said, they could be stuck here on earth like this together for years... As far as Clara was concerned, suddenly that seemed just fine by her, because she was happy – not happy to love again after Danny, not even happy because the man she was with happened to be the Doctor in human form – none of that came into it. She was happy because, until finding Malcolm, she had never felt so completely loved, love had never felt so utterly right in the whole of her life...

The weekend went too fast, and soon it was late on Sunday night, and Malcolm was due to start his new job the next day. He went to bed early and Clara joined him and as she reached out to turn off the light, he said her name urgently, and she turned over sharply, looking at him in alarm.

"Oh, _fuck_ this!" Malcolm exclaimed as he lay on his back, closing his eyes as he breathed out slowly, "Why do I keep feeling like this, like I've been slammed into a wall?"

He ran his fingers through hair dampened by sweat and looked at her. He was pale and every line on his face seemed to be made deeper at that moment, as Clara recalled the Doctor's warning and felt a flicker of fear so sharp she didn't dare show it.

"What do you mean?"

Annoyance crept into his tone.

"I mean, I feel like shit! I ache to my bones again!"

As she shifted closer to him and placed her hand on his cheek and tenderly kissed him, he saw not a trace of the fear that tormented her worried mind.

"I'm not surprised after the weekend we've had!" she said fondly, "Go to sleep, Malcolm. You just need to rest."

"No fucking chance of that when I start work tomorrow," he said, sounding tired as he closed his eyes again.

Clara switched off the light, and as she heard him breathing slowly and deeply as once again that heavy tiredness took over and pulled him into deep and rapid sleep, she lay beside him, her back turned so that if he woke, he did not see the tears in her eyes:

 _The Doctor had been right._

She wanted his prediction to be wrong, but deep down, she knew the truth...Something had gone wrong with the conversion process and one day she would have to tell Malcolm to open the watch... But she didn't want that day to come, because for the first time in her life, she had fallen in deepest love, and now she never wanted it to end...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _The time passed by._

Malcolm's career took off to great heights along with his stress levels and shortening temper. His fierceness lead to many clashes with colleagues and went some way to him earning the nickname The Dark Lord of Downing Street, a man few dared cross, let alone stand up to in a disagreement. But he was firmly established in his role and doing it well.

 _And then the Sycorax invasion happened, followed by the destruction of the departing ship above the earth's skies..._

* * *

As Malcolm's department went into meltdown to try and cover the event with lies to calm the public, a second shock wave went through Downing Street as mysterious rumours began to circulate suggesting Harriet Jones was not fit to be Prime Minister. Apparently rumours had started that her health was on the decline, and she should stand down...

"She's going to finish the whole party and us! Loony PM and her loony government shouting _aliens_ from the pissing rooftops! I'd gag her with gaffer tape if I thought it would help!" Malcolm fumed as he sat at his desk, a notepad in front of him as his hand moved without looking down at the paper. He was doodling something, and doing it so hard the tip of the pencil scratched at the image...something from a bad dream, something that had lingered in his mind ever since the news had broken of the alleged alien invasion attempt...The word Dalek was coming to mind, and he didn't even know if _Dalek_ was a word to begin with...

Then the door opened and Hugh Abbot walked in. His expression was grave and as Malcolm looked up, giving him the death stare, he steadied himself and began to speak.

"I may be able to persuade Harriet to dismiss her theory...for the sake of her career. There _could_ have been a weapons testing accident... blame the rest on mass hysteria... The papers might buy that -"

"The papers will print what ever shit I make them print and it won't be about aliens!" Malcolm said firmly, "And as for you persuading her...you know what? Fuck off. Just fuck off out of my sight, okay?"

Hugh lingered in the doorway.

"But I really think she will listen to me -"

"Why are you still standing there? I told you to fuck off!"

"You told everyone to fuck off today. They did, that's why I'm the only one standing here."

"So fuck off, then," Malcolm growled, and then as Hugh left the room, he picked up the phone, stabbing a number to reach the direct line of Harriet Jones.

* * *

"Bad day?"

Her voice was sympathetic and when he looked at Sam. If he squinted, he could almost see something of Clara in her as she stood there looking at him kindly with a coffee in her hand. She placed it on his desk and then stayed there, putting her hand on his shoulder and it felt sold with tension.

"I can't see this government lasting through this shit," Malcolm said quietly as he looked down at the paper that was now covered with strange drawings, "There's a PM who wants to tell the world we were invaded by aliens and the world is turning against her thinking she's not up to the job. I'd love to know who started the rumour I'd have their bollocks for earrings... It's a mess."

"Maybe it _was_ a real alien invasion."

He looked up sharply at Sam, and she waited for an insult, but instead, as he looked to his kid colleague, he couldn't bear to verbally tear into her, not today, not Sam...

"Aliens? Sam, you should know not to believe half the shit the press comes out with, what's got into you?"

"I could see the ship from my bedroom window," she replied, "It was huge...It looked like the real thing to me."

"And who knows what the MOD is cooking up in the name of national security! Anything never seen before in the skies can be passed off as alien – Sam, there are _no_ aliens, okay? Have you got that, or do you want me to book you a one way ticket to the nuthouse to keep Harriet Jones company? Because that's where she belongs!"

"But it was on the TV," Sam replied, "We saw them."

"We saw an elaborate fucking hoax!"

Sam looked down at the drawings on his desk.

"What are those things?"

He glanced down at the paper and the word _Dalek_ came to mind again as he shook his head.

"Fucked if I know!" he replied.

As Ollie Reeder came into the room, Malcolm gave a sigh of despair.

"Here comes Harry Potter...I bet he loves the aliens! Do you, Ollie? Do you love the aliens?"

Ollie stood there, looking at Malcolm as he remained silent.

"Tell me about how much you want to be abducted and fucked in the arse by them, because I'm waiting for it..."

"As you know Hugh is trying to persuade the PM to ease up on the subject because the words alien invasion are causing panic..."

"And my job is to stop this bullshit before we have riots on the streets and people arming themselves with guns!" Malcolm said sharply, "There's no aliens, Ollie! Just people who are shit scared!"

"I'm just saying that between myself and Hugh I think we can -"

"Forget it, I'm meeting with Harriet tomorrow."

His words made Ollie fall into a brief silence.

"I really don't think she will listen to your approach -"

 _"Fuck off, do it now and don't come back."_

That look was blazing in his eyes again. Ollie muttered something under his breath and Malcolm thought he caught the word _wanker_ in there somewhere, but then the door was closed and he was gone.

* * *

Her soft hands on his shoulders pressed lightly through the fabric of his suit as she gave a gentle squeeze, whispering of a promise to ease his tension. Malcolm looked up at Sam.

"Why are you still here?"

"Because I care."

The look in his eyes softened. The thought ran through his head that if not for Clara... No, that was bad thought. She was his Clara, he loved her far too much to even consider another woman. But there was something about Sam, and he didn't want to dwell on that realisation.

She looked down at the drawings again.

"I wonder what they are?"

"Nothing."

"They must be something...almost like...robots of some kind."

He gave a heavy sigh.

"I don't know what they are," he replied, "But I do know they're not aliens, because there's no such thing. Maybe this job is driving me insane too."

"I'd help if I could," Sam replied, "Is there anything I can get you?"

Malcolm looked up from his desk and managed a smile despite the crushing pressure of the situation he was faced with.

"No, Sam. You can go now...just leave me to work this out."

"You know where I am if you need me," she reminded him, and as she smiled, his heart warmed through with fondness. She wasn't like the others, he had found a soft spot for her since the start of this job, and the more he noticed the gentleness in her eyes, the warmer he felt towards her. As she left the room and closed the door behind her, he drank some coffee, looked down at his paperwork and picked up the sketch of what his mind had suggested was called a Dalek.

"Aliens!" he said dismissively, and screwed up the paper and tossed it in the waste bin.

* * *

Later that evening, at home and feeling exhausted, Malcolm had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a bathrobe, then as the stabbing pain began to hit deep in his bones, he drew in a breath, closed his eyes and tried to push it away.

"Don't think about it..." he whispered, "It's going to pass...It has to pass..."

But the pain was overwhelming, and as he staggered out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, he was thankful that the bed was only a few steps away – but each one of them was pure agony as pain locked into the middle of his spine and movement became difficult.

"Clara!" he called as he made it to the bed, then gratefully sank back against large, soft pillows. He was sure if he didn't move again for a while, the pain would ease up.

As Clara came into the room, her eyes were wide with concern. She knew that look on his face, she had seen it too many times – sudden pain and weakness, the kind of pain that caught him at unexpected moments, pain that could force him to lie down, afraid to move, or simply send him running to the bathroom to throw up. His face was pale and he was breaking out in a sweat.

"I can't be like this tomorrow, I have to meet with the PM!"

"If you can't get up you have no choice," Clara reminded him.

With the pressure of the situation over the aliens rumours, her reply was the last thing he needed to hear.

"Since when did you become a fucking doctor?"

"I'm just trying to help -"

"Help?" he exclaimed, ""If you want to help me go downstairs and put me a stiff drink – _very_ fucking stiff! I need to kill this pain and the crap in the bathroom cabinet does nothing for it!"

"You can't drink to block it out!"

"I'll have that drink if I have to crawl downstairs and get it myself!"

Clara ran her fingers through her hair, looking away from him as her thoughts tumbled hopelessly. The Doctor had said this would happen. He had also said treatment wouldn't work...but now Malcolm wanted to turn to drink to deal with it?

"If you start drinking to block this out its' going to affect your job -"

Malcolm pushed himself up against the pillows, the pain he felt on the slightest movement only served to fuel his anger more as he glared at Clara.

"So I go in slightly half cut, what's the difference? I shoot my mouth off a bit more than usual? They've got me labelled as the cunt you don't fuck with, Clara. Who would notice the difference?"

"You can't drink to block this out," she said again.

After living with Malcolm and his moods and the sharp change in him when the pain tormented him, she was not immune to his outbursts and no swear word or combination of such words even made her wince slightly. She hated to see the change in him, but she knew why – and she didn't want to think about it, because that ship was still out there, far off in space and it wasn't safe for the Doctor to come back yet. But he had told her to look after him...

Malcolm often suffered these bouts of agony, and if he drank every time it happened...She couldn't allow it, because the Doctor had told her to protect him, and turning him into an alcoholic would solve nothing at all...

Then something else hit her, and with it, she blinked away stinging tears : She didn't _want_ him to open the watch. Not now, because she had fallen in love with this difficult man who was even more difficult when he was in pain...

"Maybe there's another way," she said, and as he noticed her dark eyes were glazed with tears as she stood at his bedside, Malcolm's rage simmered down rapidly.

"Did I do that? Did I make you cry?"

"I'm not -"

"Like fuck you're not! Did I just make you cry, Clara?"

She sat down on the bed, blinked and a tear ran down her face.

"I'm just worried about you," she said in a hushed voice, "I'm scared and -"

"Oh no, come here..."

All trace of his anger was gone as he put his arm around her and she got on the bed and sat beside him on top of the covers, she had to slide up to him because he could barely move,m but once his arm was around her and her head was on his shoulder, she looked up at him as she tried to hold back from more weeping.

"What's this about?" he asked gently, "I get a bad back and you think I'm dying?"

"Don't say that."

"I know it feels like shit when it happens but I always get over it. I'll be fine, I think I'll do it your way and rest. Does that sound okay, Clara?"

He was doing this for her, anything to stop her tears, and she knew it.

"I do get worried," she admitted, "This pain you get – its different every time. It shouldn't be happening."

"And I'll make an appointment to get it checked out as soon as I've had this meeting with Harriet Jones," he replied, "I promise."

 _And it won't do any good,_ Clara thought silently as she recalled the Doctor's warning on the recording.

Malcolm brushed away a tear that shone on her cheek, reached forward stiffly and kissed her, then he rested, his arm still around her, as she thought about the warning and the fact that the watch was within easy reach. It seemed so simple to put a stop to this any time she felt she had to, all he had to do was open it, and the Doctor would be safe and Malcolm's pain would be gone...but so would he, and she felt selfish as she tried to justify not mentioning it simply because that enemy ship was still lurking n the Tardis radar...now that was starting to feel like an excuse, and she knew it...

* * *

When the next day arrived, Malcolm got up early, took a hot shower and then got dressed and swallowed down a mouthful of painkillers simply because he knew Clara did not want him to drink to block out the pain. But for now, the pain was gone, the medication had been a precaution and all he could do was hope it stayed that way as he tried to talk sense into Harriet Jones, who seemed determined to assassinate her own career. He had been well aware that Clara was watching as he left, and he made a point of strolling out of the front gate, just to be sure she could see the pain had left him. Then he began his journey to meet with Harriet Jones, as he ran through everything in his mind that he needed to say to her...

As they met in her office, Harriet shook his hand and warmly smiled, then as she sat down and so did he, her face took on a troubled expression.

"It's good to see you, Mr Tucker...These rumours about my health...they have to stop! I'm under pressure to resign!"

Malcolm looked at her thoughtfully.

"Who started them?"

She hesitated, looking down at her desk.

"It's...confidential -"

"You're the PM! You don't have to protect anyone, that's my job! I may not agree with your crazy alien theories – which you need to stop throwing about so casually, by the way – but I do want to find out who started this rumour. Whop ever did it has power to damage this government from the top downwards!"

"I destroyed the Sycorax ship," she said quietly.

Malcolm had sat back in the comfortable chair, about to relax as he began this discussion, and on hearing the word aliens, he looked away as he smirked.

" _Not a-fuckin-gain!"_ he muttered.

She looked up sharply as he looked back at her.

"I was there, Mr Tucker! I was on board their ship! It was only because he saved us that the threat was neutralised...then I gave permission for our weapons system to fire up to make sure that threat was gone forever!"

Malcolm looked at her intently. Now he wasn't smirking, he wasn't mocking her or looking away.

"He? Who are you talking about?"

She hesitated again.

"There is a man who has long defended this planet from hostile alien activities. He has links to both UNIT and Torchwood. When I had the Sycorax ship destroyed, he was furious. He said he could bring me down with just a few words and I don't know what he said and the man he whispered them to can't recall either! But now there are rumours circulating that my health is declining and I'm not fit to be prime minister!"

"Who is he?" Malcolm asked again, "You want my department – no, specifically, me – to handle this shit for you, tell me who he is and we can start from there."

"You can't do anything about it," she replied, "His name is the Doctor. He's an alien too."

Malcolm looked at Harriet Jones and shook his head. Somewhere at the back of his mind the name _The Doctor_ felt like it ought to be familiar, but he dismissed the thought, because it made no sense at all.

"I think these rumours about _you_ are probably true because you're clearly insane! Alien? Really, you think there's aliens everywhere, Harriet? It won't be aliens who cost you your job – it will be your own party if you don't stop talking utter crap!"

Anger blazed in her eyes as she got up sharply.

"Get out Mr Tucker, get out while you still have a job!"

Now he didn't hold back as he got up, chuckling as he reached for his briefcase full of notes that he now wouldn't bother to be using.

"I'll be in mine longer than you'll be in yours," he murmured, and then he walked away.

* * *

On the way back to the office, Malcolm made some calls, and then a call came back to him, and he shouted and gave his orders, not caring about passers by who glanced back at the man swearing loudly into his phone as he walked along the London street. By the time he had ended the call after making numerous angry threats, the deal was sealed. Next day the papers began to run stories about the crazy beliefs of Harriet Jones, and it was the start of a slide from popularity that would cost her dearly. Three months later, Harriet Jones resigned...

Malcolm took no pride in his part in getting rid of her as leader, but at least the new PM did not believe in aliens, and for a while, all was well again – apart from Malcolm, who continued to suffer sudden unexplained attacks of sharp pain, for which there seemed to be no known cause.

Malcolm blamed it on the stress of his job, as Clara secretly worried, knowing this was a situation that could only get worse. It seemed inevitable that one day, that watch would _have_ to be opened...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As time went on, the blue police box at the bottom of the garden remained exactly as it was on the day it had landed – despite winters of snow and rain and driving winds and blistering hot summers, the paint never chipped or cracked, the box just stood there, beneath the shade of a tree, unchanged, as if it waited, and Malcolm behaved as if it had always stood there, and was of no importance at all.

 _By now, five years had passed._

Clara knew what the Tardis was waiting for, and she didn't want to think about it. Sometimes her mind wandered to the Doctor and her heart ached as she missed him, and those were the times she went down the garden path, up to the Tardis and the door would always open for her, letting her inside to check on the radar and the position of the enemy ship. It was always there, a blip on the screen, always in the same position, waiting patiently...

Then she would play the recording, watching fondly as the Doctor spoke to her. By now she knew all of the recording by heart – and it was a lengthy message, but she had heard it so many times, and she just wished that on some level, she could communicate back to him, to tell him about her situation...

"A few more rules," the Doctor said on the screen, "Look after my human self... Don't let him get into trouble. Don't let him get arrested. Don't let him get into any kind of situation where he might have trouble with the law. This is important."

"Why?" she murmured as she looked at the screen, "I've never understood that part..."

"Treat him gently," the Doctor added, "Remember, my consciousness is in the watch. He's walking around with my body, converted to human. You need to protect us both. Don't let that watch out of your sight."

She stopped the recording and as the screen went dark, she looked into it sadly.

"You've covered everything," she said, "Except telling me not to fall in love with Malcolm... too late now, its happened..."

Then she walked around the console. She looked up, then about the vast room, feeling an ache in her heart as she missed the Doctor. This room had been filled with so many memories, all seemed so distant without him...

It was then as she leant against the console looking to the open door that led out to a sunlit garden, that Clara frowned as a sudden thought hit her.

"If your consciousness is in the watch..." she murmured, "And your body is now human...Whose consciousness did you use to make Malcolm?"

And suddenly the gentle hum of the Tardis jarred, it was something that happened in a fraction of a moment and she carefully caught it, but it was definitely there, almost as if the Tardis herself had given a gasp of dismay at her realisation.

"You know, don't you?" she said, looking upwards as she addressed the Tardis, "You know and so does the Doctor...How did he do it? I know he had to write the DNA switch sequence but Malcolm...the consciousness that went into him...Somebody's mind? Did you rewrite someone's mind, Doctor?"

Again, she felt a jarring beneath her feet, a subtle change could be heard in the hum of the Tardis, and then it settled once more.

"You don't like me asking these questions, do you?" Clara said aloud as she smiled, "Well I'm sorry, but I love him and I'd like to know how he was put together...The Doctor wrote the program to create Malcolm Tucker and his memories and who he is...must have taken him a while...but he couldn't create a consciousness from _nothing_...Would he have needed to use a human consciousness to fit into a human body, to soak up all those memories and the identity? I wish you could explain! Where _did_ Malcolm's consciousness come from?"

The Tardis did not jar, nor did the hum alter this time – almost as if the ship had chosen to totally ignore the question.

"I know I'm on to something," Clara confided as she swept a glance about the empty room, "I know I am..."

And then she walked out of the Tardis, and the door closed softly behind her.

* * *

When Malcolm arrived home, he found Clara upstairs in the bedroom. She was sitting at the dressing table, and in the mirror that was stood upon it he saw her face reflected, she looked deep in thought, her eyes cast downwards as she turned over something in her hands.

"What are you doing, Clara?" he asked.

"Just...looking at this old watch,"she replied quietly, her gaze still fixed on it. Then she turned her head, smiling as she greeted him.

"Another shitty day at work?" Then her expression changed as she saw how pale and exhausted he looked.

As she got up from the chair, she left the watch on the dresser and went over to the doorway, where he leant heavily against the frame.

"You look shattered!" she said as concern filled her gaze, "Malcolm – you really do look exhausted! How hard have you been working? I don't care what you say, you need some time off! It's bad enough you take enough pain medication to fill a pharmacy cabinet, but you've been working such long hours lately and its no good for you -"

"I just need to say something to you," Malcolm replied, and he sounded so quietly calm, it worried her.

"It just occurred to me that I never expected to have someone like you in my life and now you're here I want you to know I'm glad we're together," he said, "And it's been wonderful, even on the worst, darkest, shittiest days of my life, having you with me made all the difference. And I want that to last forever – us, I want us to last forever."

He looked slightly dazed. Clara wondered if he had been drinking.

"I want that for us too...are you okay?"

"No, I'm not," he replied, and he looked down at the carpet as he paused for thought.,Then she heard footsteps on the stairs, and as Sam joined him in the doorway, she looked to Clara at once.

"Has he told you yet?"

Clara's eyes clouded with confusion. Her first thought was one she dismissed as ridiculous – of _course_ Malcolm was not having an affair with Sam, they were friends, colleagues...No, no way...

"Told me what?" Clara asked.

Sam looked at Malcolm. He glanced back at her and then finally met Clara's gaze as his own began to glaze as he held back from weeping.

"Sam drove me home this afternoon," he explained as his voice began to tremble, "I was in no fit state to drive... I had an appointment, another one...didn't want to tell you until it was over because we've had five years of this shit with no end in sight and none of this is fair on you. But at last I have an answer. It's not what I was hoping for, but the doctors think they know what they're dealing with now."

It was unusual to see him so quiet and subdued and as Sam touched his arm and he looked at her, she spoke to him gently.

"Maybe we should all go downstairs to do this?"

Clara felt a stab of envy,and that seemed crazy at a time when clearly,her lover had received shattering news...but all the same,Sam had known first?

"No, let's do this right now," Clara replied, "I want to know what's going on!"

Malcolm looked into Clara's eyes, and then she noticed something she had not seen until now – he had been crying... _Malcolm had been crying?_

Clara stepped closer, and Sam looked on as she took hold of his hands. He held on tightly, trembling slightly as he drew in a breath and spoke the words that he had never wanted to hear himself say.

"At least they know what they're dealing with now – sort of... The specialist thinks its some kind of cell mutation disorder...if its a cancer they can't put a name to it but there's some experimental drugs I can try. And I'm keeping this quiet...I need to hang on to my job. But I don't know how long the job or me will last. That's all... There is nothing else!"

Then he broke down in tears and she wrapped her arms around him, letting him weep on her shoulder as Sam blinked away tears and said something about maybe she should get going.

Clara glanced at her and nodded, silently thanking her with a look that Sam read correctly – Clara was grateful for her help. Sam went back down the stairs and moments later, the door closed softly behind her.

* * *

Malcolm was still weeping as Clara held him, and her gaze shifted to the dressing table where she had left the watch.

"Come on," she said gently, "You need to explain properly to me..."

Malcolm looked absolutely broken as he pulled back from her embrace and tears streaked his face.

" _It's some kind of fucking cancer they can't even identify! Like they've never seen anything like it before...I'm shot to pieces with it!"_

"Maybe they're wrong," she replied, and as he tearfully told her there was no chance of that, she took him by the hand, led him over to the bed and sat him down, then she picked up the watch and sat beside him.

"What if I told you that what's wrong with you is because of something that happened that you can't remember? Suppose there was some kind of energy transfer and it went wrong, and kind of messed up your DNA?"

Malcolm blinked. His eyes widened.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

Now he sounded like the man she knew and loved once more, and that was enough to lift her mood a little, he had seemed broken – but only briefly. Now he was Malcolm Tucker again, the man with an attitude that said nothing kept him down for long, nothing would dare to try...

"What if I told you this watch could solve everything?"

He stared at her.

"And I thought _I_ took the news badly...A watch? What does a watch have to do with any of this? I don't understand -"

"If you open the watch, you'll remember," she told him, "You'll see the past and everything else and understand why. And..." her eyes filled with tears, "And you won't be you any more but I'll never stop loving you, Malcolm! I just don't want you to suffer any more and I can't keep you here any longer if you're going to get worse when you don't have to...the signal, it's still on the radar but..."

"Radar? Signal? Clara, what the actual fuck are you rambling about?"

Malcolm looked utterly bewildered as she held out the watch.

"Take it, open it, then you''ll see I'm telling the truth! You're not really human -"

"I know plenty who would agree there!" he said as humour crept into his voice, but then it was gone again as he glanced to the watch and then back at Clara.

" _Not human?"_

"You're a Timelord...but you altered your DNA... I know it sounds insane but what if I'm right?"

Malcolm put his head in his hands for a moment as he sat there, muttering curses under his breath.

" _...Fucking aliens..."_ she heard him say, and he spread his fingers, looking at her through the gap, despairing of her crazy words.

"I can't listen to this crap!" he said, straightening up and sweeping his hands across his face to wipe away the last trace of his tears, " _Aliens?_ Clara, I've just been told I'm most likely going to die from this thing, they can't tell me what its is, or when it will kill me but it's all fucked up! And you're talking about _aliens_? Is this how you deal with bad news, you go all _Harriet Jones_ on me? Thanks a lot, thanks a fucking lot!"

"Just open it, you'll see the past!"

He looked to the watch in her hand and shook his head.

"It's a watch Clara... _the past_? What does it do, is this fucking time travel now?"

"Please...I can't open it for you..." she grasped at the watch, but it refused to open,"See? It will only open for you!"

Malcolm took the watch from her, studied the ornate swirls engraved on it, and then her heart sank along with her hopes as he handed it back to her.

"I can't do this, Clara! I'm about to start taking experimental drugs for something the doctors don't understand and I don't need this shit to contend with as a pissing bonus!"

Malcolm's shoulders slumped as he gave a heavy sigh and looked at her, exhaustion plain on his face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and then she got up, put the watch away and then turned back to him. Malcolm was sitting on the bed, his head bowed, as he tried to slow his breathing and not get worked up again in his weakened state.

"You're wrong," she said quietly, "You've been wrong from the start – Harriet Jones didn't deserve to lose her position...the Sycorax were real. There was no hoax -"

" _SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"_ he yelled as he looked up at her sharply, eyes blazing.

Clara glared back at him.

"I wish I could make you understand, but you won't listen to me! If you stopped being a narrow minded prick maybe you'd see the truth – there _are_ Sycorax out there, and Cybermen -"

"Fucking Cyber- _what_?" he said, as he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at her like she was mad.

"Cybermen! And Daleks and -"

" _What did you say?"_

Clara blinked. Malcolm's tone had changed. He was looking at her like something had stirred in his memory...

"Daleks!" she said again, "It means something to you...Of course! The conversion went wrong, maybe your mind caught some of his memories... _Look_ at me!"

As she had sat down beside him, Malcolm had turned his head away. He thought of the sketches he had tossed into the bin, and that word again ... _Dalek_...

"Malcolm, listen to me -"

"No," he said, meeting her gaze and giving her the kind of look he usually reserved for clashes at work, "This ends now. Either you're with me or you can fuck off..." He blinked rapidly as tears stung his eyes, "I'm in pain, I'm about to start taking drugs that may or not work and I've been told I'll probably die – not now, not tomorrow, but maybe in a year, or five...or ten..no one knows! So please, drop this alien talk and the time travel bollocks and just hold on to me, because I can't hold on to myself for much longer, I am on the fucking edge!"

As tears streaked his face, Clara wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as he buried his face in her hair and wept softly. As she held him, she said nothing, hearing the sound of his sobs muffled against her shoulder and feeling his body tremble as he clung to her, as she silently wondered on all he had said:

The word _Dalek_ was familiar to him?

A trace of the Doctor's memory, a tiny sliver had been left behind in his human mind?

That still didn't answer her question, the one she had asked the Tardis, about where Malcolm's consciousness had come from...If not from the Doctor, then where?

As he pulled back and wiped his eyes, Clara ran her hand over his hair and looked into his eyes. He has calmed down quickly, he was trying so hard to pull himself back together after such shattering news and as she spoke again, she tried to word the question carefully:

"You're right," she began, "I don't know what made me come out with that...Sorry. But where did you hear that word, _Dalek_?"

"It's just a word that popped up as words do...random words..."

"What do you mean, random?"

He gave a heavy sigh.

"I can't do this right now...Oh, I don't know, Clara...words... the kind that float about at quiet moments...Dalek... and others..." he stopped right there. His head was aching, his eyes hurt and he hated crying as much as he had, as devastating as the day had been - and he was still silently simmering with anger at the thought that Clara had dared to undermine his choice of action regarding Harriet Jones, former PM... Suddenly that anger needed to come out.

" _And don''t you ever fucking criticise my actions in my job again!"_ he fumed, _"You_ _have no idea what it takes to do MY job!"_ he glared at Clara, who looked startled by his outburst.

"Calm down!" she said quickly.

But Malcolm was too weary to rant some more. Instead he gave in to his exhaustion.

"I have to sleep...Please let me sleep," he said quietly, sounding defeated by the illness that had left him pale and shattered from the years of bearing so much pain.

* * *

Moments later he was on top of the covers, still dressed, and Clara was beside him, her hand over his as he tried to rest because his weakened body demanded it.

"Sorry I was a bastard," he said, turning his head and meeting her gaze, "You don't have to lay beside me if you don't want to. Feel free to walk away if I'm too much to handle right now, I completely understand – I'd fuck off as far away as I could from me, if only I could get away...I don't want to die, Clara. I'm also unsure about living because I don't know how much more I have to get through. What a mind fuck."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here for you and I'm not leaving," she promised him.

Malcolm looked up at the ceiling for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then he met her gaze again.

"Just this once...then let's never mention it again... " he said softly, "Dalek... Time War... Sheila..."

"What?" Clara said, looking at him in confusion.

"Sheila?"

"It makes no more sense than _Dalek._ Don't start questioning me, I don't get it either...words.. just words..I don't want to tell you about the others."

"Why?"

Malcolm gave a weary sigh as he looked into her eyes, knowing it would all sound crazy...so many words had floated about in his mind, all since this illness had started...Most of the time he tried to ignore it, push it away...

"Fucking disturbing words, " he added, and then he felt her grip his hand reassuringly.

"Just tell me and I'll never ask again."

"Dalek, Time War, Sheila, murder, scaffold, hangman, noose...I...I think it kind of runs through my head sometimes when I feel cornered, when some arsehole tries to undermine me at work I just fly off the handle like I'm trying to fight against something else...I think it's spread to my brain."

"What has?"

"What ever type of cancer has got hold of me."

"No, don't think like that – there's a reason for all of this, there has to be."

Clara put her arms around him, and he was grateful to hide in her embrace, curled against her as he silently wished he could stay in the protective warmth of her arms forever as he closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder, the world darkened down by the soft curtain of her hair.

"Leave it now," he whispered, "Let me sleep..."

Clara held him as he rested, drifting off into a deep and much needed sleep as she stayed awake, turning over all he had said:

She understood _Dalek_ and _Time War_... a tiny fragment left behind of the Doctor's memories...But the rest of it? She thought back to the question she had asked that had made the Tardis floor shudder, and as she looked down at the man she loved, who lay exhausted as he slept in her arms, her fears grew as she wished she could find a way to answer that question:

Where _had_ Malcolm's human consciousness come from?

" _Oh Doctor,"_ she whispered as Malcolm slept on in her arms, _"What have you done?"_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After putting the watch away, Clara left the subject of _aliens_ alone.

Her thoughts became consumed with worry for Malcolm, who underwent treatment two days later to have implants placed under his skin, slow releasing experimental chemicals that were expected to counteract the pain and the ongoing damage his body was suffering.

He was in hospital for two days with no adverse effects, and by the third day after being told to rest at home for the rest of the week, he had ignored that advice and was back at work, running the department with his usual fierceness and calling Ollie Reeder an Oxbridge twat.

No one knew the outcome, or the reason, for his latest treatment. Everyone knew Malcolm had a heath condition that frequently caused him discomfort, but none knew how serious it was. If anyone could keep a secret like that under wraps, it was Malcolm Tucker.

And he stayed surprisingly well as the slow releasing drugs worked their way into his system, arresting the progress of the condition that had kept him in pain for the past five years. Everyone noticed a change in him – he was so much more active and never seemed to tire, although both Sam and Jamie kept a close eye on him at work – discreetly and closer than he realised.

It was working. The implants were actually working, and that gave Clara hope that maybe, just maybe, the Doctor had been wrong about his prediction.

* * *

 _Two more years passed by._

In that time, there had been much change politically, but Malcolm was still the Dark Lord of Downing Street. Life had its ups and downs, but life with Clara had been bliss and easily outweighed the pressure he faced every day in his job. Then everything had started to fall apart, and under a cloud of pressure in troubled times. Malcolm, by now, had the Goolding Enquiry hanging over him and suddenly cared little if this would lead to the loss of this job - the job that had taken so much out of what he had come to think of as precious time – time had become so much more precious since the implants had worked and the illness had stopped worsening. It had made him hope that perhaps this treatment would work forever, and that he and Clara would have a future together – it had been a long time since he had dared to think long term, but lately that had become easier...

Then Clara went back to the Tardis and checked the radar – and saw it was empty. The enemy ship that had lurked for seven years was finally gone.

 _And the Doctor had said, as soon as that ship was gone, make Malcolm open the watch..._

Suddenly she didn't want to think about that watch ever being opened. Malcolm was under terrible strain over the enquiry and this was the first thing that had really managed to mar their happiness in a long while. Clara wanted to get back to that happiness again, to get the enquiry over with so that she and the man she loved could get on with their lives.

 _But it wasn't to be._

The outcome of the enquiry did not go well, and Malcolm resigned, and was then charged with perjury. On the same day, after making it through the crowd of waiting press and into a taxi, he went home, exhausted and shattered as those strange words floated about randomly in his head once more. Then as weakness overcame him and pain that had long been absent shot through his body, he fell hard outside his house, the door keys still in his hand, smashing his head on the porch and lying there in a pool of blood, where Clara found him unconscious ten minutes later.

* * *

As she sat at his bedside in his room in the hospital, Clara silently decided this had to be the darkest day she had ever known – the implants had stopped working. The doctors had already taken them out. Malcolm had three stitches to the back of his head where he had fallen, and he looked pale and exhausted as he lay there, still not yet waking after his collapse.

"I'd like to stay," Sam said as she drew up a chair and sat beside her.

Clara looked gratefully to Sam, who she had long since come to think of as her friend, too. Through out the enquiry, they had both accompanied Malcolm on the journey each day, Clara beside him holding his hand, Sam on the other side of him, holding his other hand. Team Tucker, she called it, and Clara liked that. They had got him through that and they would get him through the trial – if he lived long enough to face trial...

"Its not enough," Clara said quietly as she studied his sleeping face, "I've only had seven years with him. It's not enough, Sam!"

"He really loves you, Clara," she replied, "You've made him so happy..." Sam blinked away tears, "He had two years, he was absolutely fine – maybe the doctors can find something else, another way to treat this...We can't give up hope."

"I think he already has," Clara replied, thinking on how the enquiry and then learning of the charges against him had drained the life out of him.

Then Malcolm turned his head, felt pain at the back of it and that pain registered on his face as he slowly opened his eyes to see he was in a hospital room, and Clara and Sam were at his bedside, and both looked worried sick.

Then he recalled the outcome of the enquiry, and being charged... Suddenly the random words didn't slip through his mind like they used to , instead he saw it all, Dalek, a large robust machine with heavy fire power, then Time War, the destruction of planets and the loss of lives...Sheila...a woman with dark hair and make up like a forties film star – except that she was dead with bruising around her neck that looked like strangulation marks. Scaffold, hangman, noose...noose around his neck, the word went dark, the trap door opened and he fell with it, into darkness, a never ending fall...

Malcolm gave a gasp as his eyes widened in fear as he reached for Clara's hand, crushing it in his grip.

" _Save me...Clara please, save me..."_

"Malcolm," she said carefully, bearing the pain of his bruising grip as she tried to calm him, "Look at me, focus on me..."

He blinked, saw Clara looking down at him, and his eyes filled with tears.

" _I don't see words now...fucking images...they won't stop...oh fuck this, help me!"_

"The Doctors had to take the implants out," she told him, "They've stopped working...But we mustn't give up hope."

" _I'm going to die in prison!"_

A tear ran down his face and Clara brushed it away.

"No, that won't happen," she assured him.

"We promise it won't happen," added Sam.

And Clara said no more on the subject as she thought of Malcolm's only line of defence that could save him – he really couldn't recall the facts regarding the truth, because the medication he had been on often clouded his memory. It was time for the world to know just how ill he was, whether he liked it, or not...

As for what he had said about the things he had seen, this troubled Clara as much as his looming court case – those words had stopped floating about randomly, now he was seeing images associated with them and all since the threat of the trial had come up. Now she got what the Doctor had meant about keeping him out of trouble – it was as if the case was waking up more of those left behind memories...and the ones that scared him the most seemed to be nothing to do with the tiny fraction of memory left behind by the Doctor – this was something else, it had to be linked to the origin of Malcolm's human consciousness...

* * *

It was the most awful week for Clara, as she and Sam kept Malcolm company and did their best to stop him from losing hope. He was told by the specialist treating him that his only option now was pain relief, which he accepted, and then insisted on going home as soon as he was strong enough to stand up. As it turned out, he could barely walk at all, but with the help of Clara and Sam, made it to Sam's car, and then Clara got in beside him and finally, Clara was able to take him home. And Clara thought about that watch many, many times on the way back – but then she looked at Malcolm, and silently hoped there was still more time they could be together, because once he opened that watch, she knew he would be gone forever...

Malcolm had been home for two days when the phone call came through. He was sleeping upstairs in bed, feeling weak and exhausted – how much of that was due to what the implants had done to him long term, and how much was due to his worsening condition, he could only guess at – the doctors didn't seem to know either.

He had woken to hear the phone ring, and then Clara had answered, and her words had sounded distant either due to the door being closed or the medication making him feel slightly light headed. Then she said something to Sam, who was a regular visitor these days, and someone gave a sob and then there was a pause and then Clara said _Let me hug you again_.

Now Malcolm was properly awake, he sat up in bed, leant back against his pillows and looked to the doorway, wondering what was going on as he wished he could find the strength he used to have to jump out of bed and go and find out.

He didn't have to wait long...

Clara and Sam entered the room together, and both were smiling. Clara went over to the bed and wrapped her arms around Malcolm, giving him a hug that hurt, because his bones vaguely ached, and as she looked into his eyes, he saw she looked tearful – but these were not tears of sadness.

"It's over!" she said, "Malcolm, it's really over! They've dropped the charges against you – insufficient evidence...and what really helped was explaining how ill you are. There's no court case, no trial – you're a free man!"

Her smile faded as his own gaze hardened.

"How the _fuck_ did they find out about my illness? I _never_ gave permission for that -"

"We did," Sam cut in, "I got the documents together and Clara forged your signature."

His eyes widened as anger blazed like blue fire reflected there as he looked to the two women.

" _You vile, low-life scum pair of bitches!"_ he ranted, "That's just what my enemies want to hear, _The Dark Lord of Downing Street, dying_! Thanks a lot!"

Clara and Sam exchanged a glance. Knowing him so well, neither were affected by his rant.

"Yes, it's in the papers, it's been on the news...But you won't be going to prison," Sam reminded him.

"You didn't even ask me!" he said, sounding shocked, "I'm the one who puts the spin on the media around here, not you two!"

Clara couldn't help but smile.

"No court case, Malcolm. It's over. And everyone's done something without asking permission...I mean, we're only human, right?"

Resentment burned in his eyes.

"You're right about that," he told Clara angrily, "I was once working late in the office, got bored, fantasised about Sam sucking me off and then had a wank!"

" _And I've sometimes masturbated over a Timelord with a blue box,"_ Clara thought silently, _"But where's the harm in that?"_

Sam looked rather stunned as she glanced from Malcolm to Clara.

"He thought about me sucking him off? I...didn't know about that."

"Neither did I," Clara replied, "But I must admit, it might be worth discussion... anything to get him out of that bed again...I think he's just not trying hard enough."

Malcolm stared at her.

"What... _what_ did you just imply?"

"Which part, that you're not fighting hard enough, or Sam sucking you off might be a good idea?"

His eyes were still wide.

"You're supposed to hate me for saying that, both of you!"

The two women exchanged a glance as Sam smiled and blushed and Clara smiled.

"We can't hate you," she told him, "We both love you too much."

"And you should understand I fucking _hate_ the pair of you for pulling a stunt like that! _The media?_ You used my own _weapon_ without asking me first?"

Sam giggled.

"His weapon..."

"Sounds like a super villain," Clara added, "We used the Dark Lord of Downing Street's secret weapon to get him out of the shit...We _so_ deserve our own titles for that...Oswald and Cassidy, the Dark Ladies of Downing Street, maybe?"

"And I so want my own underground lair," added Sam, "I think I've earned it!" and the two women looked at each other and laughed softly.

Malcolm looked on in disbelief.

"What _is_ this shit? You're trying to be as good as me now?"

"We just got you _out_ of the shit," Clara replied as she walked over to the bed, "So stop complaining, come here, stupid...I love you."

And she embraced him, as suddenly Sam was embracing him too, and for the moment they both held him, Malcolm blinked away tears as it finally hit home that his fears over the trial and the outcome had been evaporated – thanks to Clara and Sam. He gave them both a hug back.

"Thanks...Thanks a lot for saving me," he whispered as his voice trembled with emotion.

* * *

It took a few days for the news to sink in that the threat of prison was finally gone. There would be no trial, the charges against him had been dropped, and knowing that seemed to help a great deal as Malcolm began to regain his strength. The head wound was healed by now and he was eating more and although still needing rest, was sleeping less in the day time and seemed in much brighter spirits than he had been for a long while.

Eventually he was able to get up and take a bath and get dressed and, with help from Clara, make his way downstairs again. He was noticeably weak, but the fight was back in his eyes. He loved this life and was not going to give up on it easily...

And Clara watched as his will to carry on grew stronger, and she decided, she would not bring up the subject of the watch again – at least, not yet. She wanted every precious moment she could share with him, she just hoped the Doctor would understand if Malcolm lived much longer than expected and she didn't persuade him to open that watch until the very end...She needed this time with him. A thousand years would not be enough, there could never be enough time with Malcolm, because she loved him so deeply...

* * *

It was a warm spring morning when Sam stopped by on her way to work. Malcolm was up and in his dressing gown, resting on the sofa with coffee beside him as the doorbell rang and Clara went to answer it. There was a pause, the two women whispered, and he turned his head, feeling suspicious because by now, he had learned those two were capable of just about _anything_...

Then Clara came into the room and Sam followed. They exchanged a glance, that look said so much – especially about the conversation they had shared recently, without his knowledge, about Malcolm and his fantasy. They both knew he wasn't going to get any better, but if anything could be done to make his time on earth happy, they both wanted to make it happen...

"I just thought I'd stop by to say I'll see you tonight," Sam told him, "How are you this morning?"

"Not dead yet," Malcolm replied, "I feel pretty good considering."

"You look well too" she replied, "And I'm coming over tonight to spend the evening with you, Malcolm."

"Tell him," Clara said as amusement crept into her voice.

"This is a one off, obviously," Sam told him, "But me and Clara thought you deserved to have a bit of fantasy fulfilment. I'm coming over tonight to suck you off..." she glanced at her watch.

"Oh no look at the time...I have to go...see you Clara, bye, Malcolm."

The stunned look on his face made her smile, and then Sam left the house.

Malcolm stared at Clara in utter disbelief.

"I thought she just said -"

"She's coming over to suck you off? Yes, she is. I thought it would be a nice surprise. I'll be watching too, I'll be right here, making sure you enjoy it," Clara told him as she sat down on the bed and put her arm around him.

Malcolm's face flushed and for a moment he was unusually lost for words.

"You don't mind if she -"

"No, I don't mind. I love you."

"I...No, I can't think of anything to say!" Malcolm exclaimed.

Clara giggled.

"You mean I've managed to leave you, the great Malcolm Tucker, speechless?"

He started to smile.

"You definitely win, Clara!" he said, still feeling stunned as she gave him a hug, and then he kissed her, because it was all he could think to do to say thank you.

As he thought about what would happen that evening, he realised he was no longer thinking about dying. He hadn't thought about that for a while now – Clara was too busy keeping his mind on life, and that was certainly becoming surprising...Sam was coming over to give him his fantasy, and Clara didn't mind? Suddenly his only regret was that he had not married Clara, and he wished he had so much more time, because he knew he would never meet someone like her again, and he wanted to make the most of every moment with her, not matter how little time he had left...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

" _What did I do to deserve this? I've gone through life being the biggest fucker I know and suddenly out of nowhere you appeared, Clara...you and your kindness and your understanding, your willingness to stand by me and see me though a world of shit – and now this. Is she really going to suck my cock tonight?"_

Clara was smiling as she tidied up the bathroom, she glanced into the bedroom through the open doorway and saw the look of surprise on Malcolm's face. That look had not left him since that morning, when Sam had stopped by and casually mentioned her plans.

Now it was late afternoon, and Malcolm had been so much better all day, even needing less sleep despite the heavy pain relief. He was looking well, too – Clara felt sure he would last longer than the specialist had predicted. That awful dark guesswork had consisted of anywhere between a month and six months, it was impossible to accurately predict. But Clara felt sure as their eyes met that he intended to live much, much longer than that – and what did the doctors know anyway? This was a consequence of the flawed Chameleon Arch transfer, they couldn't begin to understand something like that...

Clara left the bathroom and joined him in the bedroom.

"Yes, she really is coming over to live out your fantasy. I want you to enjoy it, too."

"I'll certainly be doing that!" he said excitedly, and it was good to see so much life and energy back in his eyes again.

Malcolm was in a bath robe, on top of the covers, his hair was still damp from the shower and as he looked to Clara, she saw a sudden flash of nervousness in his eyes.

"You sure you're okay with this, Clara? Because I don't want to go ahead and enjoy this and then have you turn on me -"

"I'm not like that!" Clara exclaimed, "Stop worrying!"

Malcolm sat back against the pillows and briefly closed his eyes.

"I'm so fucking hard!" he said, then he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced nervously at the clock on the wall.

"She should be here soon."

"Yes, I know," Clara went over to the bed and gave him a gentle kiss.

"Relax," she told him, "You won't have long to wait."

Then she slid her hand up his thigh, and he caught his breath.

"Let's have a look at you..." she raised the bathrobe, and the feel of her eyes on him made him ache.

"Clara, don't...I'll come!"

"Yes, you are hard... _very_..." she remarked, and then she covered him up again.

"I hope I can last," Malcolm added, "I had a wank in the shower and I'm hard all over again!"

Clara giggled softly.

"You'll just have to hold back."

"Can't you give me a quick one before she gets here?"

She saw the pleading expression in his eyes, but didn't want to spoil the fun – also he wasn't as strong as he used to be, and three times in one day could prove a little too much...She shook her head.

"Wait!" she told him playfully, and then the doorbell rang.

"See you in a minute," Clara told him, and she went downstairs to answer the door, as Malcolm lay there hoping he could control himself as long as he wanted to, because right now, he was on the edge...

* * *

Clara was downstairs for quite a while.

Malcolm waited, listening but hearing nothing thanks to the closed bedroom door. He easily had the strength to get up and open it because he was having a good day when his weakness gave him little trouble – but instead he waited on the bed, in his bathrobe feeling somewhere between rampantly horny and slightly shy about the thought of this arranged intimate encounter.

Then the door opened, and Clara came in – alone. That playful look was gone from her eyes, and Malcolm looked at her in confusion.

"Where's Sam? Don't tell me this is a fucking wind up -"

"She's not here yet," Clara replied, "We've got an unexpected visitor... _very_ unexpected. _Ollie Reeder's here_."

Malcolm stared at her. He no longer needed to worry about not lasting long with Sam, because his erection had just rapidly departed.

"Tell him to fuck off!"

Clara lowered her voice as she stepped closer to the bed.

"I can't...He needs to see you, Malcolm. He's heard the news about your illness and it's hit him a lot harder than you might think."

"Good. Tell him to go and kill himself, then! I'm sitting here waiting for fantasy fulfilment and instead I'm getting a visit from the man who thinks he can be the next Malcolm Tucker. I'm surprised he's still breathing. I bet he's barely coping drowning up to his eyeballs in a job that's eating him alive. Serves the fucker right."

"Actually he's really upset," Clara said, and a look of victory shone in Malcolm's eyes.

"Over me? Even better!"

"You should see him."

"Why should I?"

This was difficult. She chose her words carefully.

"Because..." Clara looked away for a moment, unable to say all she needed to say whilst meeting his gaze because she knew how hard it would hit him...

"He knows you...might not have long. He wants to see you. Don't deny him that, he's in a real state."

Malcolm paused for thought.

"Tell the little cunt he gets five minutes and no more."

"He's outside," she said in a hushed voice, and that knowledge left Malcolm totally unmoved.

"Send him in and get it over with."

* * *

Clara left the room as Malcolm glanced at the time, hoping he could get rid of Ollie, the last person he wanted to see, long before Sam turned up, or his fantasy evening would be wrecked beyond repair...

Ollie entered the room alone, he stood there with a bunch of flowers in his hand as he looked to Malcolm, then he saw the table next to the bed full of pill bottles and looked back at Malcolm, who gestured to the flowers.

"If those are for my funeral, you're too early, Ollie. Best stick them up your arse and be on your way. I'm not planning on dying yet."

Malcolm slowly met Ollie's gaze. What he saw surprised him – shock, sadness...did he spy a hint of regret somewhere, too?

"I can't believe its true," Ollie said, stepping no closer, "I thought nothing could kill you."

"But you sold me down the fucking river and stole my job."

"Yes...I've had time to think about that."

"And do what, wank over your own victory?"

Ollie winced.

"I came here to say sorry. I'm not here to gloat or run off telling tales about you on your deathbed! I just wanted to apologise, I never thought something like this would happen, not to you. I am genuinely sad when I think about it!"

"So am I," Malcolm replied, and as he met his gaze, in that moment, he still had the death stare of the Dark Lord of Downing Street, "I'm _really_ fucking disappointed that when it comes to terminal illness, it had to be me and not you. Now get out of my sight, and don't come fucking back!"

"I guess I'm asking for forgiveness...If that makes sense. Life's too short to hold grudges."

"No it fucking isn't!" Malcolm stated, "Fuck off out of my sight!"

Ollie stood there, refusing to back off, and it came as something of a surprise to see his eyes had glazed with tears.

"But Malcolm, you're bloody dying! That's why I'm here -"

"Fuck off, Ollie," was all he said in reply, and then he looked away as Ollie spoke again, repeating that he wanted to make amends before it was too late. Malcolm kept his gaze to the window, and as he heard Ollie say goodbye, and then leave the room and close the door behind him, he breathed a heavy sigh. He looked back and felt relieved the little shit had taken his flowers with him, then he closed his eyes, tried to relax and remembered this was going to be one hell of an evening... Sam would be here soon...

* * *

"You didn't have to be so harsh!" Clara said as she joined him in the bedroom, "He was genuinely upset!"

"Good," Malcolm replied, and then he slipped his hand inside his bathrobe as he checked the time, guessed Sam would be here any moment, and gently caressed his growing hard on as thoughts of what lie ahead brought about stirrings of another erection.

"Please, no more talk about Ollie...I want to be hard when Sam gets here!"

The look in Clara's eyes softened.

"I think you're already making a good job of that."

She lifted his bathrobe and watched as he stroked his hardness, it was growing now and the more she watched, the harder he became.

"Maybe you could do a better job of it for me?" he suggested.

Clara smiled. Her hand covered his and he caught his breath, but then she lifted it free from his erection, placed his hand at his side and covered him up once more.

"Leave it alone, Malcolm! That's Sam's job tonight."

And he felt a throb deep in his hardness on hearing those words. Then the doorbell rang again, and she smiled on seeing the look of excitement in his eyes.

"Don't get up," she said to him, "We'll both be seeing you soon..."

Then she left the room as Malcolm breathed out slowly, resisting the urge to touch a raging hard on that was ready to explode.

* * *

As the door opened and Clara walked into the room, Sam followed. She had come straight from work, and seeing her dressed for work only added to Malcolm's thrill as he recalled the day he had jacked off into a tissue thinking about Sam giving him head.

 _And now it was actually going to happen..._

A slight wave of nervousness came over him, and thankfully it was enough to kill a fraction of his urgency, which he was glad about, because now he knew he would be able to last longer...

"Are feeling okay?" Sam asked.

"Fine..." was all he could think to say as his face flushed and he smiled warmly at Sam, whose gaze had suddenly darkened seductively and it was so much more than he had ever imagined as their eyes met in that moment.

Sam sat down on the bed and Clara sat the other side of it, shifting closer to him as she reached out and untied his bathrobe.

"Let's show Sam all of you...he's got a nice body, Sam..."

" _Oh fucking hell, yes..."_ Malcolm murmured, settling back against the pillows as Clara opened up his robe, exposing his naked body.

"Is that okay for you?" he asked, his face still flushed as he looked to Sam.

Her gaze had wandered down his body slowly, and then back up again, and it felt like heat moving over his flesh. Then she placed a hand on his chest, and smiled as she looked into his eyes.

"You've got a nice body, Malcolm," she told him, "Very nice..."

As she gently ran her hands up to his shoulders, her touch was as gentle as he had imagined it would be, and then she kissed his cheek.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"You bet I am!" he said breathlessly.

"I want this to be really good for you," Sam told him, "Just enjoy it,Malcolm..."

Suddenly he felt like he had no control over the situation,and it was wonderful. Clara ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him, then she moved lower down the bed, running her fingers through his pubic hair as the feel of her touch sent a shiver a pleasure through his body, and then she gently stroked his hardness.

"He's more than ready for you, Sam."

As Sam met his gaze, he looked down at her. She was between his open legs, and had just fondled his balls so carefully, so gently, and now their eyes met all he could do was breathe harder as his arousal climbed skywards and he let the two women take over.

Clara placed her hand on his thigh, gently parting his legs a little wider.

"I'm going to suck you off now, Malcolm," said Sam, and as she took him in her mouth, he gave a gasp. As he looked up he saw Clara was beside him, she ran her fingers through his hair and then she took hold of his hand.

"Just enjoy," she sad softly, "Let Sam suck you off..."

" _Oh fuck! I want to come when you say that!"_

His breathing was becoming harder, in short sharp bursts as Sam worked her magic, sucking him gently, sliding her soft mouth carefully up and down his impressive length.

With her free hand, Clara brushed her fingertips across his chest, she kept repeating the motion gently circling his hardened nipples as sweat began to run down the centre of his chest and his breathing grew heavier still.

"You needed that," Clara said, "You need Sam to be doing that...look down and watch, she's really doing it...she's sucking you off...Sam's giving you head..."

Malcolm looked down slowly, saw Sam, his hardness in her mouth as she sucked again, and then she looked into his eyes and as he could take no more, Clara's arms were around him as he gave in to the moment and lost control, coming hot and hard as Sam sucked again and swallowed. She gave another, much more gentle suck at the very last throb, and then swallowed again, before gently releasing him from her mouth.

"I'm glad you liked that, Malcolm," she said with a smile, and then she placed a kiss just above his pubic hair and got up from the bed.

He was still breathless as Clara let go of him. He leaned heavily against the pillows, still recovering as a trickle of sweat ran down his face. He felt exhausted. It had been beyond amazing, it had been a real fantasy come true, but now he felt crushingly tired – a stark reminder of exactly why Clara had ever considered making this fantasy a reality in the first place – because he didn't have long to live...

"That was amazing!" he said, still breathing hard as he smiled and looked to Sam and Clara.

"Thank you," he added, "Oh, that was the fucking best!"

Sam smiled. Clara leant over him and kissed him.

"Excitement's over now," she reminded him, "Get some sleep."

He smiled as he closed his eyes.

"I've got no choice after that!" he agreed, sounding tired, and then he gave a sigh, and slipped into an exhausted but satisfied sleep. As he lay there, his breathing slowing as he relaxed and Clara took the covers and turned them up to his waist, paused to kiss him tenderly on his damp cheek,and then she and Sam left the room, as Sam took a last look back, smiling as she felt sure she would never forget the day she made Malcolm's fantasy come true.

* * *

"I've _got_ to say this, Clara...it was the biggest thrill – no, that sounds fucking bad... _not_ like that, not like she's more exciting than you - I just mean it was the best, both of you, with me like that...Do you know how amazing you are to _want_ me to do that in the first place?"

Malcolm had woken up now Clara had joined him in bed, long after Sam had gone home. She turned on her side, looked into his eyes and smiled, feeling sure she had never seen Malcolm look so surprised, not since the first day she had met him. He looked tired and shadows under his eyes reminded her why she had done this for him, but she regretted nothing. It had meant so much to Sam to make his dream come true, too...

"I love you so much," she said softly.

"And I love you," Malcolm replied as sadness shaded his gaze and he suddenly felt like the party had ended too soon, "But I hurt more every day and soon those pills won't work any more...What's next, me stuck in bed on a morphine drip until I die in a haze of pain relief? I'm needing more of those pills every day. I feel like I want to carry on forever but I know that's impossible."

Worry clouded her eyes.

"But you've been so much stronger... Oh no, you've been upping the dose?"

"Anything to stay with you longer," he replied, "I am _not_ slipping out of this world quietly, fading away...I'm Malcolm Tucker, I don't back down and I'm not giving in to this quietly!"

Clara held him tightly, blinking away tears as the fight she saw in his eyes burned as bright as the days when he had been known as The Dark Lord of Downing Street.

"We just have to keep on fighting," she told him.

"But I'm tired," he whispered, "So very tired, Clara..."

Then he held her in his arms and kept her there for hours, watching her sleep as the night drew down dark.

* * *

As Malcolm lay there beside her, his mind was made up...The only way to fight and win against this illness would be to take matters into his own hands:

 _There was a gun locked away in the desk in the office where he used to work from home. He had bought it a couple of months ago, on a dark night from some kid who had promised him it was loaded, charged ninety quid and asked no questions..._

It seemed that perhaps tonight was the night to do it, while he could still stand, while he could still make his own choices about when, and how...

Malcolm got out of bed and looked to the wardrobe, then he wondered why he would want to ruin a perfectly good suit - because a gunshot would be fucking messy how ever he aimed the weapon...

He put on his bathrobe and stood there for a moment, looking down at Clara as she slept, then he smiled, thinking on just how lucky he had been to have her in his life. He wondered who would hate him for what he was planning to do, and who would understand. He knew his enemies would be glad when they heard, but it wasn't about them – it was about making an exit while he still had control over how he left the building...

Malcolm walked out of the bedroom and went down the upper hallway, by the time he reached the closed door he was shaking, and as he opened up the door and looked inside, he thought back to all the years he had spent here, calling the office, sending emails, shouting down the phone.

The room was moonlit and not nearly welcoming enough, so he went over to a lamp on the desk and switched it on. Then he sat down, unlocked the drawer and took out the handgun. As he looked down at it, his hand trembled and he wondered if he actually had the guts to pull the trigger.

 _There it was again._

The flashes of images and words now combined that made no sense, as if his mind had shaken something loose again now he was worked up:

 _Dalek, Time War, Sheila, murder, scaffold, hangman, noose..._ The Dalek loomed close, its eye stalk glowing. Planets erupted in balls of fire, a woman died from strangulation, the noose was around his neck, the trapdoor fell and he fell with it into darkness as the Dalek advanced again, its eye stalk glowing.

 _Dalek, Time War, Sheila, murder, scaffold, hangman, noose..._

 _No. Stop. Stop forever..._

Malcolm screwed his eyes shut tight.

" _I love you Clara!"_ he whispered, pressing the gun to the back of his head.

* * *

Clara woke up with a jolt, her heart pounding as she wondered what had roused her so violently from sleep. Then she sat up and turned on the light, looked to the empty space beside her and got out of bed. It was then she noticed the bedroom door was open, and so she left the bedroom.

As she made her way down the upper hallway, she saw a dim glow coming from inside the room where Malcolm used to work from home before he had resigned. But the house was in total silence...

Clara approached the open door cautiously, wondering what the hell had woken her with such a jolt.

"Malcolm?" she said urgently, "Are you in there?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Malcolm?" Clara said again, and as she walked into the room, she gave a gasp, looking on in shock as he picked up a handgun from the floor, glared at it and then fixed his angry gaze on her.

" _I paid ninety quid for a fucking fake? That shitty little cunt told me it was the real thing!"_

Her jaw dropped.

"Why...why do you have a gun?"

He slammed the replica weapon down on the desk as tears filled his eyes.

"I wanted to go out _my_ way – with a fucking _big_ bang! I can't even do that right, because I know fuck all about guns! He ripped me off, it's a fake, a fucking toy!"

Then his anger faded into despair as he walked over to Clara and wiped his eyes, looking utterly lost.

"I'm scared," he whispered, and she drew him into her arms as fear reflected in her eyes... _He had been contemplating suicide?_ She held him tightly, and then as she let go, his tears had dried. They had not been tears of sorrow, but of sheer anger.

"I'm glad it's not a real gun," she told him, "Don't you ever do that to me again! I love you! Did you really want me to come in here and find you with a gun in your mouth?"

"Actually it was at the back of my head."

"Oh great, brains up the wall! _Really?_ You _seriously_ wanted to do that? You're still here, we're still together, why end it now?"

"Because it will end me if I don't make my own choice while I still can, that's why."

Clara looked at him. For a moment she said nothing, and then as she saw the pain reflected in his eyes, she recalled the Doctor's warning, that he would suffer so much pain, unnecessary pain...Malcolm had been through enough...

"I don't care what you think about that watch," she told him, "It's time for you to open it. I can't see you go through any more of this."

His own troubles were instantly forgotten as he shook his head, dismissing her suggestion.

"Fucking time travel fantasies again. I'm in pain, I'm dying and all you can do is talk about a watch? You should hear yourself. You really are fucked up, Clara."

She ignored his angry words.

"I can prove it to you," she told him, "That blue box at the bottom of the garden -"

"An old police box, what of it? Is that some part of your weird fantasy too? Listen Clara, I can handle you watching Sam suck me off - that's a good one, that's a _great_ fantasy to be a part of, believe me I loved it as much as my cock did! But the rest of it.. Time travel? Aliens? No...I can't listen to your crap!"

"It's called a Tardis and I was travelling with him inside it when we were followed by an alien vessel," she said, and Malcolm ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head, looked down at the gun on the desk and yet again wished it had been real.

"And I'm dying, there's your reality. _Stop_ running away from it!"

"I'm not," Clara replied, "And I'm _not_ going to shut up until you listen! He had to change from Timelord to human – he used a device called the Chameleon Arch. He was the first in a new set of regenerations and the transfer was complicated – he said his human version might have problems with cellular mutations, or cell breakdown, does that sound familiar, Malcolm?"

He hesitated, wondering why her far fetched story was making some kind of odd sense...

"You became his human version," Clara continued, "His consciousness is inside the watch – only you can open it. The consciousness inside your mind is some kind of human transfer...I don't know how he did it... But those words? Dalek, Time War? That's something, a trace of him left behind! The rest of it, must have come from what was left after he took a human mind and wiped it somehow...I don't know...He's not here, I can't ask him."

Malcolm stared at her. For once, no profanity could cover this, no smart remark could wipe the conversation out. It sounded crazy and yet there was something...he didn't know what, but suddenly, he needed to know more...

"You said, _he_. Who the fuck is this guy, Clara?"

" _His name is the Doctor."_

Malcolm stared at her. Suddenly his mind was cast back to that fateful meeting several years before with Harriet Jones...

" _There is a man who has long defended this planet from hostile alien activities. He has links to both UNIT and Torchwood," she had said, "His name is the Doctor, he is an alien..."_

Malcolm felt a chill run down his spine as something rang true in a way he couldn't understand. He covered his mouth with his hand as he gave a deep gasp of shock, then he lowered his hand again and just stood there, staring at Clara in utter disbelief...

"She told me," he said in a hushed voice, "Harriet Jones said -"

" _Harriet Jones was telling the truth!"_

Again, Malcolm got the oddest feeling.

"Tell me some more."

"The old police box? It's _so_ much more! You think it can't open but it can! I'm the only one who can open it because you're in human form! If you open the watch you'll have the Doctor's consciousness again...I know I'm getting through to you, Malcolm, I can see it in your eyes! You know this makes some kind of sense even if you can't explain it!"

He stared at Clara as something at the back of his mind suddenly made no sense at all.

" _I can't remember how we met."_

"That's because we met on the day you woke up feeling dazed. Remember, you said you felt like you'd kissed me for the first time? That's because you just had."

Malcolm thought back...

"But I know I love you, Clara. It's a fact, it's real, it's as real as I'm standing here talking to you about why the fucking gun didn't go off!"

"The Doctor didn't have time to fully write my history with you. I was just your Clara..."

"But I love you...and you love me too I _know_ you do!"

There was a look in her eyes that was starting to worry him as she blinked away tears and nodded.

"That's right," she said, "And when you open that watch, you're gone, Malcolm's gone forever and the Doctor takes his place."

Everything was making sense, although he couldn't work out why, it just felt like the pieces were slamming into place and making for a horrible picture – one that he would not be in when the final missing part was back...

"I'm dying because the transfer went wrong?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, feeling as if a door had been flung open and light had come sailing in at long last, "You're not ill... it's the human conversion process breaking down! It always has been!"

Malcolm stepped closer to her.

"I don't know if this is all bollocks and I'm sliding into your fantasy or if I've gone off my head because that gun wasn't real and I'm ready to believe anything – but there's _something_..."

He placed his hand on her cheek, and as she reached up and covered it with her own, a tear ran from her eye, running warm over their joined hands.

Fear shone in his eyes as he spoke again.

"Okay...so if this is right, if I open that watch...I go from Dark Lord of Downing Street to Timelord? What happens to me, where does Malcolm Tucker go?"

"I don't know," she said as emotion cracked her voice, "I know you become the Doctor again – but _your_ human consciousness is separate...it's something else...which means you don't die but I don't understand..only the Doctor knows."

Malcolm paused, taking his hand from her cheek as he took a step back, silently turning over all she had said. Then he looked into her eyes once more, and his expression was grave.

"The way I see it, I'm dying. I'm fucked either way. But if there's a chance I can survive this we need to get him back because he's the only one who can help..."

"But there's a risk I may never be able to get _you_ back once it's reversed! I'm not a Timelord, Malcolm! I don't have all the answers."

Suddenly all the pain and weakness and sorrow was gone from his gaze, in that moment as he had made his choice, he had indeed found his true self, the man he had been before the pain had chipped away at him.

"We need to get him back," he told her, his voice suddenly stronger as he sounded more like Director of Communications once more, "He's the only one who can help. _You_ need to stop crying, _I_ need to remember I'm Malcolm Tucker and even space and time won't dare fuck with me...And I need to open that watch. You're right, Clara," he took hold of her hand, "Let's open it. We both need the Doctor to come back."

* * *

Clara walked hand in hand with Malcolm as they made their way back to the bedroom. As they went inside she turned to him, knowing this would be their final hours together.

"I can take the watch out to the Tardis... the door will unlock for me, we can go inside together. I really think you should be in there when the watch opens...And I think it will be goodbye, too... Don't leave with out saying it properly. _I love you so much!_ "

As she reached for him, Malcolm drew her close, kissing her hard with a passion that seemed to come from the last gasp of the strength left in his body. He was breathless as he drew back from her, then looked into her eyes and said nothing as he he led her over to the bed, pushing her down as he stripped off his robe and then joined her.

As she reached for him he claimed her mouth again, taking her breath away with a deep and lasting kiss that muffled the sound of her cry of urgency as he entered her with a firm thrust, not caring about the pain that ran through his body, not caring that soon everything he understood to be true would be ripped away with the opening of a watch that he still did not understand. Malcolm looked into her eyes, paused to kiss away the tears that had fallen on her cheeks, and then he thrust again, slowly, taking his time, forcing himself to make this last because after this night, everything would be gone...

She clung to him, catching her breath with every movement of his body as their union intensified. He looked into her eyes, took in every detail of her face, as she did to him as she ran her fingers though his hair.

" _Fuck the rules of time or space or aliens and watches,"_ he whispered as his lips brushed hers, _"I'll always be yours, and you'll always be my Clara. Nothing can change that, believe me...What we have together is bigger than the fucking universe..."_

"I'll always love you too, Malcolm Tucker," she vowed, and they kissed again, that kiss lingered, and then her breath was taken away again as he moved against her once more, making slow yet desperate love as they both tried to cheat the passing of time and a destiny that could not be avoided.

* * *

It was almost sunrise when they were ready to leave.

Malcolm had changed into a dark suit, as he straightened his tie Clara looked at him and silently reflected that he looked as if he was off to work again, and suddenly she thought back over the past seven years and the life they shared came rushing back at her, making her heart ache.

Then Malcolm turned from the mirror and she saw the shadows under his eyes, noticed how weary he looked, and as he leant on the dressing table and took in a sharp breath, fighting a wave of returning pain, she knew it was time – he had been through enough, this human body was breaking down, he had to open the watch...

"We should go," she said quietly.

"Yes, we should," Malcolm replied, then he took a final glance in the mirror, remembering his own face, recalling who he was and feeling determined that nothing, not even having his own mind ripped out, would entirely destroy him, because he wouldn't allow it...

Then he turned from the mirror and managed to smile as he held on to his new found courage.

"Don't be sad, Clara," he said as he looked into her eyes, "I'm the Dark Lord of Downing Street, it's going to take a lot more than my mind getting ripped out to destroy me – I used to work in fucking politics! Now take me to the Tardis... I think it's time the Doctor had his body back."

Clara nodded, and then she picked up the watch, and Malcolm took her by the hand, leading the way as they left the bedroom together.

As they stepped out into the garden, the sun was rising and birds were singing in the treetops. They said nothing as they walked down the path to the bottom of the garden, where the Tardis sat beneath the shade of a tree.

"Ready?" Clara said quietly.

Malcolm nodded.

"Open the door, Clara," he said quietly.

She gave the door a gentle push, and there was no need for use of the Tardis key as the blue box understood the time had come, and the door opened up easily. Clara stepped inside and Malcolm followed, and the door closed behind them softly.

* * *

Malcolm stood there in stunned silence as he looked about the impossible vastness of the ship:

 _It was all true._

 _This was a space ship._

 _It was bigger on the inside._

 _Time travel too? Very fucking likely._

 _This vessel looked capable of anything..._

"It's real..." he whispered.."It's all true..." as he looked in astonishment at the console and its many controls, then the vast ceiling above it, then as Clara joined him, she looked down at the watch she held in her hands.

"Are you ready?"

Malcolm gave a nervous laugh, shaking his head as he blinked away tears.

"No! How can anyone be ready to do this? Oh fuck it, no. No, I'm not, Clara!"

He drew in a shaken breath and looked at the watch that still rested in her hands.

"Will it hurt?"

"I don't know," she said as her eyes began to glaze and her heart felt already broken, "I know he went through pain using the Chameleon Arch. But once his consciousness is out of that watch, he's here and you're gone...I don't know where you will go to...but I will find out and I swear, if there's a way to bring you back -"

"If there's not," he told her, "Just be glad we had seven years together."

He paused, recalling how her constant presence in his life had made such a difference to what would have been an otherwise lonely existence.

Love shone in his eyes as she clasped her hand, she still held on to the watch.

"I would have a shitty life without you, Clara. And there would have been no one there for me to get me through the worst of it. I'll never stop loving you and what ever part of me survives this, I will never forget you. I really don't think anything could hurt as much as this does, not the pain I've been through, the fear, none of it matters...none of it hurts as much as saying goodbye."

"Then don't," Clara told him as she clung to a faint spark of hope that she knew might only exist in her own desperate heart, "Just keep remembering me and I'll make the Doctor find a way to bring you back, he'll listen to me, he always does. I know there has to be a way...and if he doesn't know a way, he'll find a way, okay? I promise. This is not the end! I love you, Malcolm."

"I love you too," he said quietly, and then framed by the glow of the console room, they leaned closer and shared a last kiss. As that kiss ended, Malcolm stepped back, tugging the watch from her hands.

She looked at him in surprise.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

Something daring gleamed in the eyes of Malcolm Tucker as he flashed her a smile.

"No, but who gives a fuck about risk...I've nothing to lose now...See you on the other side...I hope!"

And he opened the watch.

Power swirled, flowing in a fiery fluidity that sought out his body, masses of it rose out of the watch, its glow lighting the room as the power flowed into his eyes, swirled about his body and glowed so bright it started to take over the room. The brilliance of it hurt her eyes as much as the stinging tears that fell as Clara turned away weeping and ran from the console room and out of the open Tardis door.

* * *

As Clara stumbled out into the garden, the morning sunrise was bright in a blue sky. But down in the shade, under that tree, the Tardis door was still open and as she turned back, she still saw the unearthly glow lighting from within – the watch was still pouring back into the Doctor, turning him from human back to Timelord. And Clara was still weeping as she ran for the house, reaching the back door and going inside, then closing the door behind her. As she walked through the kitchen and into the hallway, the silence and stillness of the place hit her.

 _So did the realisation that Malcolm was gone._

Clara went over to the stairs, sat on the bottom step and put her head in her hands and cried as her heart ached and she wished for a miracle that she feared would never come – if opening the watch brought the Doctor back, did that mean Malcolm was gone forever?

It was a question she was yet to ask when the Doctor returned, but as her heart ached with the loss of the man she loved, suddenly she felt as if she never wanted to speak to the Doctor again, because he had just cost her Malcolm, and if the Doctor could not bring him back, she felt sure she could never forgive him for that, because right now, Clara Oswald felt like her heart had been ripped away as that watch had opened..

" _You will bring him back to me, Doctor!"_ she whispered as tears streaked her face, _"You have to...I'll make you do it, I want him back!"_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Clara had lost track of the time she spent sitting on the stairs weeping and feeling like a widow. Then she went upstairs and washed her face but didn't change her clothing. She had not showered that morning and she didn't want to, she was still wet inside from making love with the man she would never see again... All this proof that he had been here, in this world, and now he was gone.

 _A loss but not a loss._

 _It didn't take anything away from the pain she felt as she mourned him._

Then Clara had gone back downstairs, opened up the curtains, let in the light in this horribly silent house, and heard the sound of his boots as he walked towards her:

She knew it was over before he spoke, she knew the Doctor was back and he was fine, of course he was, this had all been part of a plan to protect him...

And he was still begging her to look at him as she stood by that window, her gaze fixed on the blue box at the back of the garden.

"Clara, please! Didn't you listen to anything I just said -"

" _Bring him back to me!"_

She turned around and faced him, tears stinging her eyes as she glared at the Doctor.

"Clara, look at me – properly! I'm fine now – the human body was breaking down because I was right about the complications...it was a temporary means to an end!"

" _He was real to me!"_

The Doctor fell silent, his twin hearts aching as he heard such pain and anger in Clara's voice.

"We should leave now," he said softly, "Let's put this behind us. Let's go."

He held out his hand.

Clara looked down at it, her thoughts still with Malcolm, and then she took his hand, letting him lead her from the house and down the path towards the open Tardis door.

* * *

" _I know this has been hard for you. But I can explain everything, Clara, if you'll just give me the chance..."_

As he spoke his voice echoed in the silence of the console room as the Tardis vaguely hummed and he ran his hand over the controls, but did not activate a single switch.

"Will you let me say my piece?" he looked at her, and then the Doctor's eyes widened in surprise.

" _Bring him back!"_ Clara said tearfully as her hand trembled, as she held a gun in a shaky grip and aimed the weapon right at him.

The look of surprise was gone from his eyes now.

"You wouldn't shoot me."

" _Bring him back."_

The Doctor stepped closer, meeting her gaze and seeing so much pain there he was amazed a fragile human could bear so much of it.

"I have all his memories."

"But you're not him!"

"And I recall that gun you're holding is a fake, you know it and so do I."

She flung the weapon to the ground and it hit the floor with a clatter as she gave a sob and looked back at him, eyes blazing.

" _I just want him back!"_

"And pointing a fake gun at me won't change a thing... Tardis keys, molten larva, Danny Pink?"

At the mention of that incident, she brought her hands to her face and dashed away her tears, drawing in a deep breath as she fought to compose herself once more.

"This...This is _nothing_ like that! You put me with a man I fell in love with and now he's gone! I want him back!"

The Doctor stepped closer, meeting her gaze once more, now with deep understanding in his eyes.

"Clara, listen to me – I remember everything you shared with him! I have the ability to retain a copy of those memories even through the conversion process."

"And what about his consciousness?" she asked.

Her words had stunned him... _Clara had certainly been busy in his absence..._

The Doctor stepped closer, the look in his eyes softening as he smiled.

"Clara, I used the Chameleon Arch to convert my body to human. My consciousness was stored in the watch. _Look_ at me! There's aspects of Malcolm in me – there always have been ...he's the swearing on my psychic paper, his fuckity bye is my shuttity up! Just see _me_ , Clara, please!"

She shook her head.

"Nice try, Doctor. Now answer me. Where _did_ his human consciousness come from? Because he recalled words...Dalek, Time War...left over from you, I get that bit, but there was more..."

The Doctor gave a weary sigh.

"I had little time to ensure the process was complete before I used the Arch..."

He had looked away, but could feel her accusing stare burning into him. Clara knew him too well... He gave in, meeting her gaze with honesty.

"Okay, it's like this – I needed a human consciousness to act as host for my human body while my own mind was in the watch. So I saved someone."

Confusion filled her eyes as they stood together at the console.

"Saved?"

"Many, many years ago a very powerful and wealthy businessman was wrongfully accused of the murder of his wife and he went to the gallows for it. Later his own brother confessed to the crime on his deathbed. That condemned man was innocent. I drew out his consciousness as the trap door opened and he fell beneath the scaffold, his mind was gone before his neck snapped. I wiped his memory and rewrote him for the twenty first century and set him up for a job in politics. You see I needed a strong mind to be housed in my human body while my own consciousness remained in the watch – a bit of extra insurance in case you couldn't protect me enough whilst in human form."

Clara's eyes widened as she drew in a sharp breath and stared at the Doctor.

"He kept remembering words...Scaffold, hangman..."

"I'm glad you didn't try and work too much out for him, Clara," the Doctor replied, "The whole process was rushed and plagued with glitches - that's why the fragments of memory became stuck...If he had recalled all of his former life, he would have died...his mind would have burned."

"That's why you told me to keep him out of trouble...the court case..."

"Thankfully you and Sam got him through it and he didn't have enough of the memory fragments to cause an overload. I guess that's why he tried to shoot himself, he must have felt like he was going insane."

Clara placed her hand on the sleeve of the Doctor's jacket as she looked up at him.

"There has to be a way to save him – what happened to his consciousness when you became the Doctor again?"

He glanced around the room, then looked down at the console.

"It probably would have been destroyed instantly when I stepped back in, that kind of force is very powerful and a mere human consciousness -"

"You don't know him like I do! His mind is strong, he said he wouldn't let this destroy him, that he would keep on remembering me -"

"Clara, he's gone."

She blinked away tears.

"Prove it."

The Doctor gave a sigh, turned to the console and activated some controls, watching as a monitor jumped to life, showing a flat line running across it.

"That's the physical view of the trapped consciousness...no signs of life."

And as he spoke, the line began to spike sharply, and it kept on spiking...

The Doctor stared at the screen.

"I don't believe it...how could he -"

"He made his mind up, he told me, he wasn't going to die! He's Malcolm Tucker and you don't know him like I do!"

The Doctor looked to Clara.

"He won't be aware of anything...just darkness, a void..."

"Like falling? You have to get him back, Doctor!"

The line continued to spike defiantly on the screen.

"I would have to filter a sample of my DNA, convert it to human and then process out all the glitches to ensure no cell damage. Then I would have to go to a suitable planet that specialises in cloning and after that bring the body back here and reinsert the human consciousness. It can be done... _possibly._ By the look on your face am I safe to ask the question, are you happy now, Clara?"

Her face lit up with joy as she grabbed him and hugged him and he laughed, froze, and carefully freed himself from her embrace.

"I can't promise anything -"

"But you just said -"

Her smile had faded, and the Doctor's expression became grave once more as he saw the look of sadness in her eyes.

"Cloning the human body is simple but I have to work on the human consciousness here in the Tardis and pull out those glitches – I can't take out the imprint of the Timelord memories because it's too deeply set in, but I can remove the stuff about the hanging and the murder. He will still be the man you love but with less nightmares. _If_ this works. There's a risk that the transfer wont' take a second time. If it fails his consciousness will die on transfer and the human body will also fail. It's risky."

"But there's a chance?"

"Yes, Clara and I'm doing this for you because..."

He stopped right there, and the look in her eyes assured him there was no need to struggle to come forward with his emotions, because she said the words for him.

"I love you too," she promised him, "And I would have loved you more if -"

"If I had not become Malcolm, yes I know. And I want you to have him back, I want you to be happy. I just can't promise this will work."

"But I know you'll try! Thank you!"

He let her hug him this time, cautiously bring up his arms to briefly embrace her in return as he realised if this did work, the next time he saw her, he would be saying goodbye...

Then the Doctor stepped out of her embrace and snapped his fingers and the Tardis doors flew open.

"Out."

"Why?" she asked.

"It's a lengthy process and will take some time...To you, I'll be gone a couple of days...To me, much longer... I can't promise anything, please remember that. If it fails I'm sorry - but if it works, remember, you must _never_ mention anything regarding the truth about where his consciousness came from – his mind will burn, Clara."

She nodded.

"I'll never tell him...just bring back to me."

The Doctor looked into her eyes.

"I can try," he replied, "But there are no promises. It's a chance, and chances can fail. I want you to remember that because I can't promise you a happy ending. All I can promise, is that I shall try, sometimes, trying is all we can do, and hope for the best. You'd better go."

Then he looked to the door, and she walked towards it, lingering when she reached it, looking back at him one last time.

"Thank you Doctor," she said, "I'll be waiting."

And then she left the Tardis, the doors closed and he threw a switch and the Tardis faded out of sight and vanished from the spot beneath the tree, where it had stood for seven long years.

* * *

The house felt too quiet, the stillness of it only serving to remind Clara that she was very much alone – and this was how it would stay forever if the Doctor's plans went wrong.

 _His plans had gone wrong before, when he used the Chameleon Arch._

 _What if this new plan went wrong too?_

 _It was too much to think about – too much loss. The hope she felt in her heart was like a tiny, glowing spark that could be snuffed out with the slightest breath of doubt, and so she clung to her hopes, not wanting that light to go out, because all that would be left behind would be darkness, and she had to keep that light burning, she had to believe there was still hope..._

Clara walked through to the living room and then went over to a table by the window, where she picked up a framed picture of her and Malcolm embracing, and her aching heart flooded with love so deep it was almost enough to fill the break in it that felt painfully deep.

She studied the picture, in it she saw the love in his eyes as he looked at her and then she thought of that spike on the monitor from a consciousness that refused to be destroyed...it was typical of his strength, only Malcolm could have come through this much...he had to make it back to her.

In the photograph he looked pale and tired and had a recent healing scar on his arm, just visible above the short sleeve of his t shirt. That picture had been taken two weeks after the implants had been placed under his skin, and while it had bought him two more years of reasonably good health, it had also given him tiredness and headaches and cold sweats – but nothing had stopped him doing his job, until the enquiry and his resignation. Malcolm had fought on all the way through.

"You can do this," she said quietly as she touched the glass that covered the picture, "You just have to stay strong...I know you can get back to me."

Then the doorbell rang, and she set the picture back down and left the room.

* * *

As Clara opened the door and saw Sam on the doorstep, she felt hugely relieved – if she ever needed company, the time was now and the right person had turned up – it was just a shame she couldn't tell her everything, because this really was something that needed to stay between her and the Doctor...

"I'm so glad to see you!" Clara said, and as Sam came in and Clara shut the door, they stood together in the hallway and Sam noticed she had been crying.

"Is he having another bad day, Clara? You should call me, you know I'm always here...I'll do what ever I can to help, I'll even quit my job and be here full time if he needs extra help. I want to be here for both of you."

"He's not here."

Sam blinked.

"Not here? But he's too weak to leave the house...Oh no, what's happened?"

Clara quickly pulled together the only explanation she could give that would make sense.

"He's with a doctor – a very good one. Having an experimental procedure. We're very hopeful it could work, but there's a lot of risk."

Sam put her hand on her arm as she looked at her kindly.

"You should have told me, not just sat here on your own! Why aren't you at the hospital? We should go up there together and wait for news -"

"No," Clara said quickly, "We can't..."

"Why not?"

This was difficult. Clara paused for thought.

"It's an experimental procedure and as soon as there's any news I'll get a call. Malcolm wanted me to wait at home, he said it would be better that way."

"Well I suppose it's best to do it his way, at least keep him happy," Sam replied as they went through to the kitchen.

* * *

Sam put the kettle on.

Clara sat down at the kitchen table.

As Sam made the tea, she talked some more, keeping the conversation positive. It suddenly dawned on Clara that someone like Sam would be perfect for the Doctor, just perfect, because she was so kind, so helpful, always trying to help...That thought made her smile. It was just a shame she had to stay quiet about the Doctor and the Tardis and her travels in time and space, she was sure Sam would find those tales very exciting indeed...

Sam set the tea on the table and then sat down with Clara.

"I don't know what else to say," she told her, "I wish I could say something about this all turning out okay but...Malcolm's so weak. He's so tired, he's been through so much...Is this some kind of last try to beat this thing?"

Clara nodded.

"It's the only way," she replied, "And there are no guarantees he will come through it, but if he does, he's cured."

Sam gave a sigh.

"It breaks my heart to think about what he's been through. You should have seen him at work, Clara – no one knew how ill he was, he never let it show. He's been so strong. I think he's really brave."

Clara thought of the human consciousness that had jumped to life on the monitor, spiking in a lively, defiant way as if to convey determination to live.

"Oh he is," she said as she cradled the mug of tea in her hands and thought on all the things Sam didn't know, "He is really is amazing...you don't know the half of it..."

"And whatever happens," Sam promised as she placed her hand over Clara's, "I'll be here for you both, okay?"

Clara nodded.

"Thanks, I know you will," she replied.

Then she fell silent, thankful for the company of a supportive friend as her thoughts shifted far beyond earth, to the Doctor and his plan to bring back the man she loved. He had to succeed, because she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her days without Malcolm at her side...

She looked to the window, and out to the sky and thought far beyond it, out into space, through time, wishing her silent thoughts could somehow reach that blue box and the Timelord inside it:

 _'Please save him, Doctor... I know you can. You're the only one who can do this. He's holding on even now, even after being ripped out as he opened the watch. That's how determined he is to survive... Please help him, bring him back to me, Doctor, bring him back...'_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The next two days passed by slowly for Clara. While she waited, Sam made frequent visits to the house, and they talked and her company helped Clara to get through as the hours crawled by. The Doctor had said two days...

 _Two days had passed._

 _The Tardis had not returned._

That night Clara slept clutching one of Malcolm's shirts that she had taken from the laundry basket, and slept surrounded by the scent of him, needing that trace, a reminder, as she clung to the spark of hope that still lived deep in her heart:

 _The Doctor would not let her down._

 _Even if he had failed, he would come back and tell her._

 _She just wanted that blue box to reappear, and to know either way if the Doctor had succeeded or not..._

* * *

Far out in space, the Doctor looked to the monitor, where the spiked line looked lively as it jumped up and down. Then he turned his head, looking to the man in the reclining chair:

This was a perfect human copy of the body of Malcolm Tucker – minus the DNA glitches, he was breathing and functioning, but as yet, his mind was blank. If the transfer failed, the body would die and the consciousness would die with it. Suddenly the Doctor couldn't stop thinking of Clara...

He had managed to pull out the original memories from the human consciousness – those words about the execution. It had been a long and dangerous process, comparable to removing shards of glass from a human brain. But the memories left behind of his own recollections were forever embedded.. _.Dalek_ and _Time War_ would have to stay.

Filtering the altered DNA and the work on the memory shards had taken a long time. The cloning of Malcolm's body from the Doctor's altered DNA had been a simple procedure on a far off planet that had taken a day and he had only just picked up the body – but the work that had gone into this programming, the work he had done for Clara Oswald, just to know she no longer had a broken heart, had taken almost seventy years of hard study at this console, working with the Tardis to iron out the glitches... Thank goodness for time travel. He could soon go back and hand her Malcolm and to her, little more than two days would have passed by.

 _But nothing was yet guaranteed..._

He looked to the thin wire that ran to Malcolm's temple. His hand hovered over a small lever, knowing when he pushed it, power would surge through that wire, dragging the human consciousness from its storage and into the human brain. If it failed, Malcolm stood no chance...

The Doctor gave a sigh.

"I did my best, Clara..." he said softly, recalling the look of desperation in her eyes.

Then he gently pushed the lever.

A surge of electric blue power crackled down the thin wire, making the body on the reclining chair shudder, and then the power faded out. He looked back to the monitor. The screen was blank. Then _transfer complete_ flashed up, and he shook his head.

"You'll have to give me more than that," he said aloud, glancing over his shoulder at Malcolm, who was lying still in the reclined chair and unmoving. The wire had come away from a small puncture wound to his temple and the area around it looked bruised. Obviously the transfer had happened, but he was yet to find out if it was live or not...

The Doctor continued to watch the monitor, his thoughts with Malcolm, who clearly, had been determined to survive... He had known he had chosen a strong mind when using it for the human version of himself, but to have survived the reversal of the watch process...that really was remarkable...

He had hoped Malcolm would make it. He had dressed him in a suit that was identical to one he had back home and he hoped if he woke before the journey was over, he would, in his confused state, later dismiss this as a dream... He hoped he had covered every possibility.

 _But that monitor stayed dark._

"Come on..." the Doctor whispered, looking intently at the screen.

Then the message changed:

 _Transfer successful._

He leant heavily on the console, breathing out in sheer relief.

"You've got your boyfriend back, Clara..." he said, as he shut down the monitor. Then as a shower of sparks erupted from an old cable in the console, the Doctor cursed in Gallifreyan as he waved away the haze of smoke, and took out his sonic screwdriver.

"Old wiring. Should have run it through a clean power line...Oh great...More work to do on the old girl!" he muttered, and opened up a panel and quickly set about making hasty repairs.

While the Doctor's back was turned, Malcolm's eyes snapped open sharply. He stared up the vast ceiling of the strange room that gave off an earthly glow, then he caught his breath in panic...

 _What the fuck was this place? It was like...Nothing on earth._

 _He recalled all Clara had told him about aliens.._.

Then he got up from the chair, just as the man who stood at the console up a short flight of steps in front of him, closed up a panel in the control area and then he stopped, as if sensing he was being watched.

"Is this a space ship?" Malcolm asked, his eyes wide as he placed his hand on the rail to steady himself because he felt dizzy, and didn't dare to walk up the steps.

"Yes it is," replied the tall, grey haired man in the suit who stood with his back to him.

"It flies through space?"

"Obviously."

Malcolm felt faint. He gripped the rail harder as he stared at the stranger , who had still not turned around.

"Fucking no way... time travel too? Can it do that?"

"Yes it can."

"Are you an alien?"

"Yes, I am."

Malcolm drew in a shaken breath as he kept his gaze fixed on the man at the console.

"What's your name?"

He turned around and met his frightened gaze.

"The Doctor," he replied.

Malcolm dragged in a breath as his face paled.

" _You look...like me!"_ he gasped, and fell into a dead faint.

* * *

Clara had just started her day, another anxious day of waiting, the morning sky was bright and it would have been beautiful except for that empty space at the bottom of the garden, where she saw no sign of a returning Tardis.

"Please hurry Doctor..." she whispered as she stood on the path and looked to the skies.

Suddenly the sound of an arriving Tardis filled the air, and as she looked to the sight of it now solid beneath the shade of the tree, hopes and fears collided together as she ran to the door, pushing it open and looking anxiously inside.

"Did it work?"

The Doctor turned from the console.

"Yes, Clara it did -"

She launched herself at him, running to him and grabbing him as he raised his arms stiffly, smiling as he hugged her and then stepped back again. He was going to ask her not to grab him like that again but there was no need, she turned her head, saw Malcolm lying on the reclined chair and ran to his side, raising his hand to her lips and kissing it. Then her expression changed as she said his name and got no response.

She was still holding his hand as she looked to the Doctor, who joined her beside the chair.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," the Doctor replied, "He woke up a bit too soon and saw me and passed out. He's exhausted from the transfer, but he should wake again soon. I've had a minor tinker with his mind on the way back here – he won't recall anything about the watch, I removed that memory. I've also implanted some false recollections, he thinks he's just had a treatment that's successfully cured his condition. He's going to think he needs to stay in bed for a couple of weeks and take plenty of rest – let him. If he recalls anything about waking in the Tardis he will think it was just a dream. His DNA is human with no flaws, he's healthy and I took out the original memory shards regarding the hanging. I can't remove the fragments left behind from me – but he's going to be fine. He's still the man you fell in love with."

Clara smiled gratefully.

"I can never thank you enough for this," she said.

"Let's get him back to the house," the Doctor replied, "We can't have him waking up in here again!"

* * *

The Doctor and Clara took Malcolm back to the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, where Clara undressed him and put him to bed while the Doctor waited outside the door.

While this was happening, a visitor called at the house. That visitor was Sam. On getting no answer, she went around the back of the house, and it was then she notice something unusual as she looked down the garden path:

 _The door to the old police box was ajar, it had never been open before..._

Wondering why, Sam went down the path, reached the blue box , gave the door a push and stepped inside.

She gave a gasp at the vastness of the interior. She looked about the empty room, up at the high ceiling, then she stepped out again, placed her hands on the outside of the box and made her way around each side of it, laughing like a delighted child.

" _Oh wow!"_ she exclaimed, and then, with a look of wonder in her eyes, she stepped inside again, placed a hand on the wall and felt sure it was almost as if the place was alive... and the console in the middle of the room looked so beautiful. She went up the steps and placed her hand on the edge of the console, and as she did so, she swore it was almost as if the ship was warmly welcoming her...

 _Ship?_

 _This was alien..._

 _This was wonderful..._

 _Sam had never had an adventure, but something about this place seemed to whisper that was about to change..._

"You're amazing!" she whispered, looking upwards and feeling a warm vibration about the atmosphere, as if the ship itself approved of her presence very much indeed...

* * *

Back at the house, Clara opened the bedroom door and the Doctor stepped inside. Malcolm was in bed, still sleeping deeply.

"I undressed him," Clara said, "And he looks just the same to me...every inch of him... everywhere..." she started to smile, "I checked thoroughly."

The Doctor avoided her gaze as he smiled too.

"I bet you did! Yes, he's the same man. Except that he's now in perfect health there's not a flaw in his DNA and you will be together for a very long time. You have the rest of your life together to look forward to."

Then his smile faded as he met her gaze.

" _And this is goodbye."_

Clara felt an ache in her heart, but then she glanced back at Malcolm, who was sleeping peacefully in bed, and then she smiled as she met the Doctor's gaze once more.

"Thank you," she said, "For everything, most of all, for bringing him back to me."

The Doctor stepped closer, and this time as she hugged him, he held her too, holding on tightly for a long while, until the hugging really was quite enough for him and he let go of her once more.

"Be happy, Clara," he told her.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine. I'm happy to know your heart isn't broken. And I hate goodbyes."

"Maybe we'll meet again one day – all of time and space can be full of surprises."

"That's very true," the Doctor agreed.

"So no goodbyes – just, stay safe, and be happy, okay?"

She stepped closer and kissed his cheek.

"I'll certainly try, Clara," he promised.

Then he smiled, turned away and walked back down the stairs.

* * *

As the Doctor left, Clara was about to follow him to remind him again to be safe because she wouldn't be there to look after him any more, but just then she heard her phone ringing, and she went into the bedroom and snatched it up quickly.

"Hello?" she said.

"Clara, it's me, Sam!" her friend said excitedly, "I'm in the police box...but it's not...it's a ship...it's beautiful! I just saw the door open and I walked in!"

Clara started to smile as she realised the Doctor would not be as lonely as she had feared.

"It let you in? It must like you."

"You knew about it?"

"Sort of. I know the Doctor, he's a friend of mine. You'll like him, he kind of looks a bit like Malcolm...long story, anyway, wait there, just stay put...he's on his way back. And Sam?"

"What, Clara?"

Clara's smile had just got bigger.

"Have fun!" she said warmly, and then she ended the call.

* * *

The Doctor went into the Tardis and closed the door. Then he walked through the console room and stopped abruptly, staring at the woman who was beside the console, who was _not_ Clara.

As she stared back at him he walked towards her, joining her and still staring at her, as she stared back at the man who was not Malcolm, but resembled him... Then a conversation began that would prove very important...

"Clara told me about you...You're the Doctor?" she said.

"I am."

"You're an alien? This is your ship?"

"Yes to both," he said, looking at her with interest.

"I think your ship is wonderful!" Sam exclaimed, looking about the room, "I've never had an adventure, not ever! And I want one...I think this is it! I feel like Alice!"

"Alice?" the Doctor asked.

"In Wonderland!"

"Not all of Wonderland was wonderful," he reminded her, "Time and space can be the same."

"But you'll be there to protect me, right?"

The Doctor smiled as he looked at Sam and made his decision:

She was so unlike Clara – not at all reckless, and that was a huge relief. She wouldn't be taking unnecessary risks. She was sensible. He liked that. He liked her, his mind was made up...

"Of course I will. And if you want to go home, this is a time machine - I can return you any time you want to go back."

Excitement shone in her eyes.

"I want an adventure!" she said.

"Let's have one then, Alice," he replied, reaching for the controls as he smiled warmly.

"Sam," she replied in surprise, "My name's Sam!"

"Nice to meet you, Sam," he said, "All of time and space – here we come!"

And he threw a lever and the Tardis faded from sight and vanished, setting course to another time and place where adventures would indeed begin.

* * *

Back at the house, Clara had seen the Tardis vanish and she smiled as she looked to the skies and thought of the Doctor and Sam. If anyone was perfect for the Doctor, it was her...

"Have fun," she said again, and then she went over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, as her smile faded and she looked at the time, wondering when Malcolm would wake up... He seemed so very deeply asleep that even the ringing of her phone had not roused him, and now she was starting to worry. _The Doctor had said, he would be fine..._

 _But what if he wasn't?_

 _Thinking back to his exact words, he had said, he should wake soon._

 _Should..._

 _He hadn't stayed around to wait for him to wake up._

 _She guessed she ought to have more faith in the man who had kept her alive through out their adventures despite the many risks she had taken – and there had been a lot. He had always watched out for her. Even now, he had done this for her, he had brought Malcolm back._

 _She knew she ought to have more faith in him, of course the Doctor was right...he had to be okay..._

Clara gently rubbed the back of his hand.

"Wake up," she said softly, "Malcolm...wake up..."

And he gave no response, sleeping on, giving no sign of hearing her voice.

She looked at her phone and wondered if she ought to give the Doctor a call, to ask if she ought to expect to have trouble waking him...

"No, stop worrying until you have to.." she whispered, trying to stay firm in her belief that everything had to be okay. The Doctor had said, he had woken in the Tardis and fainted. That was understandable, Malcolm, who didn't believe in aliens, waking in the Tardis seeing the Doctor also had his face...that was enough to make him faint, of course it was...

 _But what if the Doctor had been wrong and there was more to it?_

Now Clara was starting to worry.

"Malcolm?" she said again as anxiety crept into her voice, and then she gave his hand a squeeze.

Still he slept on, giving no sign of hearing her.

Worry clouded her eyes as she looked down at him.

"Please be okay," she whispered, recalling that the Doctor had sounded sure that all would be well – but the Doctor had been wrong before...Maybe he was wrong this time, too...

Clara fell silent, staying at his bedside, waiting for him to wake, because until he did, she knew nothing could be okay, nothing was certain until he opened his eyes and she knew he was still the man she loved...

"Please be okay," she whispered as she looked down at her lover, "Please, Malcolm...We've been through too much, we've come too far to give up... Please open your eyes...come back to me..."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

As Clara spoke to him, Malcolm couldn't hear her.

One moment he had been falling into blackness, into an never ending void and suddenly he was back in his office, he was back in his job and had just insulted Ollie Reeder.

" _Malcolm!"_

He walked away from his desk and turned to Sam. Then he blinked, and realised he was looking at Clara.

"Why the fuck are you wearing Sam's clothes?" he demanded.

 _"Wake up!"_ Clara told him urgently.

And as the door was blown off its hinges in a burst of sparks and alien fire power, the Dalek entered the room, its eyestalk glowing.

" _EXTERMIN-ATE!"_ it screeched.

As it opened fire Malcolm dived forward, throwing Ollie into the path of its blast, then he made for the shattered doorway and ran for his life.

Suddenly the corridor was impossibly long, more like...some _other_ kind of corridor...some kind of alien vessel that reminded him of a blue box for some odd reason.

Malcolm was still running, and then he tripped, landing hard, looking up at a sky of fire and smoke as alien ships blasted each other. All around him the land was burning, people were running... Time War... More Daleks were heading his way, this time, from the skies.

"You fuckers can _fly_ now?" Malcolm exclaimed, looking up, and then he scrambled to his feet, staring at the sight of the Daleks, zipping closer by the second, and as they combined their firepower towards ground and there was an almighty explosion in a flash of white, everything changed:

He turned over in bed and there was Clara... _His Clara._..

Their eyes met. He kissed her for the first time.

"I love you," she whispered as she held him in her arms.

He blinked , the scene changed and he saw the Christmas from hell, with the Sycorax invading the earth.

Then he was at Downing Street, telling Harriet Jones aliens did not exist.

He saw more flashes of his life at work, quarrels, then home and peace with Clara, the love of his life.

Then pain stabbed through his body and he recalled the years of uncertainty and despair as he fought to hold on, all bound together by Clara's arms wrapped around him to hold him tight and keep him here, in this world, with her...

"It's going to be alright, " she whispered as she held him, "I'm with you, Malcolm, we'll get through this together."

And as she held him, he felt the pain fade out, along with the sound of the battle on a far off planet that fell silent, as the glowing eye stalk of a Dalek disappeared.

* * *

" _Malcolm?"_

He heard her clearly and her voice pulled him back, out of the dream state and into reality as he opened his eyes and everything seemed too bright, blindingly so as he blinked, trying to focus as it felt as if he had been in the dark for a long, long time...

He knew that voice. It was Clara, but all he could see was the brightness of the room as he kept blinking, trying to focus.

"It's okay," he heard her say, and then he felt her gently squeeze his hand, and he held on to it, as the brightness faded out and the room came into focus clearly and he saw her sitting at his bedside. He looked around the room again: He was at home, he was in bed and Clara had just woken him from a very deep sleep...

"How do you feel?" she asked him, and he saw she looked worried. Then another stream of memories hit all at once... Not exactly memories that he could recall with images, more like facts that seemed to fit, and he accepted them immediately as true:

 _He had been away._

 _Seen a doctor who had given him an experimental treatment._

 _That was all he knew – apart from the fact that it had worked, and he was cured... That was all he needed to know._

"I just had a fucking crazy dream!" he exclaimed as he sat up, feeling sure now that he was definitely stronger, with no trace of pain. He felt great, better than he had in years...

"What happened?" Clara asked, smiling as she silently thanked the Doctor because it was clear he had been right – Malcolm was going to be just fine.

"I dreamt this thing called a Dalek burst into the office and tried to kill me – but I used Ollie as a human shield and got away!"

Clara giggled. Then her eyes suddenly filled with tears of relief.

"I'm _so_ glad you're okay!"

As she shifted close and embraced him tightly and held on for some time, Malcolm clung to her tightly, wondering why he felt like he was almost afraid to let go. It was as if he had expected some power beyond his control to rip him away from her, but what ever had caused that fear was long gone, just like his illness, it was gone now, it was gone forever.

"Clara," he said as he let go of her, "Stop worrying, I'm fine now, we both know that!"

"Of course we do," she agreed, remembering the Doctor had left some false memories in his mind to cover everything, "I'm just glad it's over. I'm glad we still have each other. Now we can look forward to the future."

Malcolm pushed back the covers and put his arm around her, pulling her down beside him as he looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes.

"I know I need to stay in bed and rest for a couple of weeks but feel _that_..." he grabbed her hand and playfully pushed it down to his groin, "Feel it! I woke up with enough wood to build a fucking fort!"

She giggled again as amusement danced in her eyes.

"After having a dream about chucking Ollie into the path of a Dalek?"

He laughed as his eyes sparkled again.

"No! After waking up and seeing your beautiful face! Come here, Clara...let me show you how much I've missed you..."

"Missed me?" she wondered.

He wrapped his arms around her as his eyes darkened with desire.

"I've been asleep," he replied, "That's long enough to miss you...I do love you, Clara..."

As he held her in his arms, Clara felt the strength of his embrace and knew for sure the dark times were over.

"I love you too, Malcolm Tucker," she whispered, and then she could say no more as he covered her mouth with a kiss that took her breath away, claiming her passionately, the moment a declaration of deepest love.

And while Clara was in Malcolm's arms as he made love to her, she was unaware that downstairs, she had missed a call on her phone that had gone to voicemail. When she played it back later she would get more than a few surprises as she heard what the caller had to say:

" _Clara, it's me, Sam. Thank you so much for telling me to wait around in the Tardis and meet the Doctor! You didn't tell me about the running. There's been lots of that. And sometimes its scary but mostly its amazing...To you, I left a few days ago, but to me, three years have gone by...And he's still not a hugger. But he IS a great kisser. And he says I make great coffee too. We got married today. I'm so happy, Clara...I've got you to thank for that. Give my love to Malcolm...Got to go...All of space and time, you know...plus it's my wedding night...Anyway, thanks again...Bye!"_

It would be a message Clara often played back, smiling as she heard Sam's words. But for now, that message stayed unopened on her phone, as Clara lay in the arms of the man she loved, knowing Malcolm Tucker would never vanish from her life again...

End

* * *

Author Note: Thanks for reading and I hope this fic was enjoyed.

 **Dedication :**

 **This fic is dedicated to springburn - a fellow fan fic writer whose fics I thoroughly enjoy every single time - and highly recommend! ~ N.B.P.~**


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